Hook, line and Sink her
by PaisleyRose
Summary: A twisted tale of a man with a hook for a hand who wants revenge even if he has to wait a century to exact it.
1. Chapter 1

**Hook, line and sink her.**

**By **

**Paisley Rose**

**Disclaimer **

**I don't own it.**

**I just looked at it and said…**

**Why not.**

**Prologue**

One of the last things Wendy had seen in Never Land was James Hook descend into the belly of the colossal croc. What she hid from her brothers, from the lost boys and even from Peter himself was the tiny feeling of remorse for the man who had just made her walk a plank. She whispered a silent prayer for him, for Capt. James Hook.

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**Chapter One.**

**He who waits**

**London 1904**

**New Years Eve**

Snow was falling silently on the old city, a sweet comforting blanket of purity. Peacefully the old year was coming to an end, and the New Year would begin. The Darling family was celebrating in high style. Even stuffy old Aunt Millicent seemed to be overcome with cheerfulness. Thanks to the wealth of riches that little Michael had tucked away when they left the pirates ship, they had been able to quickly adopt the lost boys who now were gladly sporting the last name Darling.

With just a little effort and a few moved belongings, the family had expanded the nursery into a nice little dormitory for the boys. Wendy moved into her mother's sewing room and the sewing equipment moved into what was left of the attic. Aunt Millicent had offered to move out of her rooms but the family and Wendy would not hear of it. Wendy didn't want any part of what had been the bastion of Millicent. She really preferred the little sewing room, as it was close to her beloved 'Lost boys'.

On New Years Eve, George, now a wealthy man was invited to the home of Sir Edward Quiller Couch, head of the Bank. Sir Edward felt that now, as George had come into great wealth, it was best to over look Darling's prior strange behavior. Wealth like Darling had come into could make his bank even more powerful, if Darling were inclined to invest and bank with him. For his part, George enjoyed the fact that with monetary worries behind him, he could at long last relax and be the man he'd always dreamed of. He happily accepted the invitation on his and his wife's behalf. Aunt Millicent and her son, now living in the Darling house, meant that George had a rather built in baby sitter for nights when he and Mary were out.

Aunt Millicent was happily seeing the pair off at the front door, from the landing all the children were waving good night. "Go, for the love of heaven." Millicent said with a happy face. "You don't want to be too late…Fashionably late is one thing George. Rudely late is another."

George kissed his widowed elder sister. "Good night, Millicent, dearest."

Mary smiled at her sister-in-law. "Have a good evening." She said in her sweet breathy voice.

Millicent looked up at the landing after closing the door. "Oh, alright, come down for another hour, and then you really all must go to bed." She had lightened up on her reigns, and had allowed herself to enjoy life.

The boys scurried down and rushed into the parlor to sit at the woman's feet and warm themselves by the fire. Wendy followed still giggling at some joke her brother John had told her upstairs on the landing. Millicent motioned the girl to be seated and to continue with the story she'd been telling when they had been sent upstairs before Mr. and Mrs. Darling had prepared to depart.

Out in the street, a few doors down and on the other side sat a dark coach. Its one inhabitant moved the dark fringed curtain slightly so it would not impede his vision. He watched the house with lights brightly shining. He could see the silhouettes of young boys moving around in the parlor, acting out some story being told to them. He could only imagine who the story teller was. Lowering heavy lids over the forget-me-not blue eyes, he swallowed the bile of being forced to be alone. Lifting his sliver headed cane; he tapped the roof of his carriage. "Move on," he ordered sharply. "I've seen enough for one night."

"Yes, master." A voice from the driver's seat acknowledged. "Where to, sir?"

"Home. Take me home." He looked out the window one more time. 'I will find a way to repay you your treachery Miss Darling, even if I have to wait centuries to do it.' He vowed as the carriage pulled away from the house filled with love and laughter.

**The Darling house 1906**

So many changes had occurred in the scant two years. John was now getting ready to go away to Eaton. Michael was no longer the baby of the family as that passion was now being filled by little Elisabeth. Aunt Millicent had blossomed into a happy woman. Motherhood, even late in life had given her a softness she has always had, but had never displayed. The lost boys now hardly ever talked about Never Land, and only mentioned the boy Peter Pan in almost sacred whispers. No one mentioned the name of the Pirate Captain, as if it were taboo or cursed.

Once in a while young Miss Darling noticed a strange carriage parked down the lane. But being a young lady with living on her mind she paid it little heed. Wendy had more important things to do than to worry about some dirty old carriage. Young Miss Wendy Darling was becoming the darling of literary circles thanks in part to the works of one Mr. J. M. Barrie who had penned her adventures after hearing her recount them to the lost boys on a night when he was a guest in her parents home.

James Barrie, who fancied himself her mentor, had introduced her to his publisher. Having praised the girl to the heavens, he suggested that the publisher give the girls own works a good read. That had started her on the way to where she was now, authoring wonderful tales of mystical and magical lands. That is when Phillip Darling, second cousin to George and Millicent came into Wendy's life.

Phillip had written George and asked for a meeting. He had inherited a good deal of wealth from his mother's side of the family and wanted to invest it wisely. He had always enjoyed the company of George, and asked for him to mentor his investing.

Phillip had the Darling eyes, and mouth. He also had the Darling gift for imagination and well spoken words, if only to one person at a time. He was a good ten years old than Wendy, and was very well schooled. He was tall, and dark and devilishly handsome. He was seated in the parlor discussing investments with George when Wendy returned from walking with the nurse in the park with little Lizzie. Upon her entering the room, Phillip stood, opened his mouth and lost his heart.

Wendy smiled at her distant relation on her father's introduction, and offered him her gloved hand. "Hello, Cousin Phillip!" Her voice was still enthusiast.

George asked his daughter to join them; sitting back and watching her mesmerize the young man.

Wendy had walked Phillip to the door and was standing at the door saying goodbye, she noticed the dark carriage, but paid it little heed again. She was far more interested in the handsome young man who was asking if he could call on her, personally.

The eyes from the carriage, darkened. Young Miss Darling was turning into a very handsome young woman, just as he'd known she would. Just has her features had promised she would. When the young man had departed, and the pretty girl had returned to the safety of her family's home, the man in the carriage ordered his driver to take him home.

**The Darling house 1908**

**Spring.**

Wendy looked at her mother and her father though the veil covering her face. "Well, will I do?" she asked saucily.

George snickered as he did often these days. "You'll breathe their hearts!"

Mary rushed forward, pressing her cheek to that of her daughter. "I'm so happy for you. For you both."

Aunt Millicent had already taken the boys down to the church. Wendy had only a few moments to spend with her parents before their carriage would take them to the little church for her wedding. When they stepped from the house, no one seemed to notice the dark carriage parked across the way, nor did they take any notice when it followed them to the church.

Wendy had begun her walk up the isle when a stranger in a long handsome coat moved to sit in the last pew of the church. He rested his left hand on a striking cane with a silver head. His right hand was buried deep in his coat pocket. He watched with a blasé indifference that was as natural to him as breathing. Only when the minister had asked if anyone had an objection did he stir in his seat, but he remained silent. He felt the hinge of his jaw crackle with tension as he watched the bridal couple exchange their first kiss as man and wife. Having been a witness to her first kiss ever, this one merely annoyed him.

The stranger who kept watch was glad of the darkness in the back of the church. He was overjoyed that happiness had made everyone take little notice of his presences. He sat quietly while others rushed out of the church to give good wishes to the bride and groom. When the church was empty he walked leisurely to the doors and watched at the happy couple were conveyed away in an open carriage. He waited until the rest of the happy throng had departed, then went to his carriage.

"Home, master?" The driver asked.

"Yes, thank you." He said with a hateful smile, he knew that when the bride and groom arrived at the home of the bride for the reception, they would find the little gift he'd left her.

After receiving the guest's good wishes, the bride and groom mingled until George told them to open some of the gifts that had just arrived. He was preparing to give them the surprise gift of his own. The gifts on the table consisted of the usual silver tongs, platters and tea service items. One little box, gaily wrapped drew attention from Wendy. There was something about the box that called to her. She opened the lid carefully and peered inside, her mouth falling open. A miniature silver figurine of a ship was nestled in the tissues. Carefully she raised it, gasping as she did so. On the deck of the little ship stood one lone character, a man with long curling hair, dressed in handsome garments with a fancy plumbed hat in his hand bowing dramatically toward her. Wendy went pale.

"Dearest, are you alright?" Phillip had asked courteously.

Wendy hurriedly dropped the little ship back into the box and closed it up. "I'm fine." She assured her husband.

George picked that moment to hand a large envelope to her. "Open it." He said in a merry tone.

Within the envelope was the deed to the house they were in, and it had been sighed over to Wendy.

"Father?" She looked at him.

George put an arm about Mary, "Mother and I have bought a lovely cottage by the sea. The boys will love it there! I want the house to remain in the family, and I know how much you love the place. It's yours my dears."

**Through the years.**

The man in the carriage watched and waited. He had seen her first born brought out of the house and had even sat in the back of the church as the child was baptized. He had seen other children born to Wendy. He had watched her grow older. He had been watching the house the night her daughter Jane had flown out of the nursery window with the boy who would not grow up.

The watcher had seen her children grow into men and women. Had been witness to their weddings. Had seen the family deal with war in 1917, and again in the 1930's. He watched and waited, every now and again he sent Mrs. Darling a gift. Ones she never displayed but hid in a trunk in the attic.

The watcher was there on the day that Wendy had buried her husband Phillip. He had seen her son Phillip Junior move to the Americas. Once or twice he had passed her in the park as she took her strolls with her grand children.

Wendy grew older, and older and older. In winter of 1989 her namesake and great, great grand daughter had arrived from America to celebrate the 85th anniversary of her wondrous journey to Never Land. Wendy was surrounded by the many generations of her line. Wendy Mora Angela Darling was ninety nine years young. Looking at a sea of happy little Darling faces in her parlor. She read from the book that Barrie had written, and then from one of her own. She asked for a few moments with little Wendy.

Little Wendy sat beside her Great Granny and held the old woman's hand. "You must always be careful," the elder warned. "You are the image of me as a child."

Little Wendy, only five years old didn't quite understand but made her promises to her Great Granny.

The next morning from a dark limo parked across the street, a stranger spotted the child that didn't seem to fit in with some of the other Darling children he'd watched. "Who is that?" He asked the detective he'd hired.

"That would be Wendy Darling, descendant of Phillip who went to America, sir." Came the answer. "She's five."

"Five, and the image already of…" the voice paused. "America you say?" He tapped the cane. "I see." He looked at the man seated across from him. "See to it that she is watched, just as the others are."

"If you wish." The detective sighed.

"Wendy Darling, eh?" The watcher tapped his chin with the prosthetic hand that he now sported on his right hand. "You bear watching, child."

**The Darling house 1990**

Just days before the 86th anniversary of Wendy's adventure, the Centurion Wendy Darling passed peacefully away in her sleep, dreaming of the night a boy who refused to grow up came to her window, asking for help to find his shadow. She was buried next to her beloved husband, and beside a son who had died in the First World War, and a grand son who'd died in the second, all in the meticulously cared for family plot.

Mourners from around the world came. When all had left the cemetery a lone figure stood at her grave, in his hand was one single flower. A bird of paradise which he placed on the head stone monument, while on bended knee. Leaning close to the stone he whispered. "Death is a great adventure, enjoy it dear Miss Darling. I however intend to live…and I have found a way to repay you your treachery Miss Darling. You see, my dear, I've the advantage of not having to worry about death." The wind rose up, whipping at his face as he sneered. "Why Miss Darling, did you really think I was just going to rot in the belly of that beast? Hardly. I may not be able to get even with young Mister Pan directly…but I can and will exact my revenge on you both though the sweet little child named after you." He rose from the grave. "Sleep well, my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two.**

**Centennial Celebration.**

**London 2004**

Wendy Darling sat quietly thinking as the rest of the passengers on the long flight slept. From the time her Great Granny had pass until now she'd made a yearly pilgrimage to England. Fourteen years of spending one wonderful week in magical old London town. She had been six when this had begun, traveling with her parents. For the last few years, she made the journey on her own. Her father was not well, and her mother didn't like to leave him. So Wendy made the trip on her own, staying in the Darling family home with her cousins who now lived in the house.

She smiled as she thought of being with her cousins John, Michael, Peter, and Phillip. Her only regret was that this was going to have to be so short a visit, but if she intended to finish her degree by the new year, she was going to have to return home right after the celebrations. Quietly she wondered if her Great Granny would have would have approved of her choice of vocations, teacher of literature.

"Miss," a crisp English voice broke into her reverie. "There's a call for you." She pointed to the phone system at the front of the airliner.

Wendy slipped out of her blanket and followed the uniformed woman to the front. Picking up the reviver she placed it to her ear. "Wendy Darling here." She said quietly, not wanting to cause the scene that name had a habit of starting. Fortunately most of the other passengers were asleep.

"Wendy! It's John!" a voice crackled on the line. "We're Fogged in, and they are re-routing your flight from Heathrow. I suggest you hire a car, love."

"John," she was going to protest, but then smiled. "I'll do that. I'll see you when I arrive cousin." She smiled at the Stewardess who was staring at her. "Something wrong?"

"Did you say Wendy Darling?" The young woman asked quietly. "Any relation to…"

"She was my great-great-grandmother." Wendy smiled considerately. She was use to the excitement that name generated.

"Oh I loved her books when I was a girl." The stewardess gushed.

"Thank you." Wendy said as was the family habit of saying. "Excuse me, but my cousin informed me we'll be putting down at another port, would you happen to know if I can call ahead and hire a car to take me to London?"

"I'll make the arrangements for you myself," the girl offered.

Returning to her seat Wendy closed her eyes and tried to get the last hour of rest she could. It was going to be a wickedly rushed weekend, even more so now that she had to hire a car and drive to London. Still it gave her a chance to see some of the wonderful countryside that she so rarely had a chance to see.

Two short hours later, the jet landed and the passengers disembarked. Wendy was exiting the plane when she saw the man with the 'Miss Darling' sign. She looked at the man in the uniform holding the sign. "I'm Miss Darling."

"Bradley Miss," He smiled warmly. "Your driver." He tipped his hat.

Wendy laughed lightly, "We have to go though customs, then we can be on our way."

Shortly thereafter, the driver was packing the boot of the limo while Wendy settled in the back seat.

A man in a car parked a few spaces behind them dialed the two digit speed dial, when the other end answered he said quietly. "Bird is now in transit."

"Follow her," came the order.

"Yes sir." The man in the dark car answered.

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Wendy looked up at the house as the limo pulled to the curb. It almost felt like coming home. Even if she had not grownup in that house, nor lived in England all her life. Great Granny's house was home to blood born Darlings, and Darlings adopted alike.

As the driver was pulling her luggage out a shout at the top of the stairs altered her that she was about to be surrounded by loved ones. "Wendy-bird!" A man from the top stair shouted.

Wendy turned round and waved. "Hi ho John!" she called back at him.

There was a car across the street with dark glass; no one took notice of as it was often parked there. The occupant in the back seat watched the warm reunion with contemptuous scorn. He recognized the man as the eldest of the present Darling clan living in the house. The woman he was sure was the elusive young Miss Darling of America. He let the tip of his tongue flick across his lips as he watched her being embraced by her family.

At the top of the stairs stood a stylishly dress young woman who was very clearly British. The look on her face was frozen. "My god," she griped to the person at her side. "Look at how she's dressed."

"Shocking." The young man said frowning and looking down his nose at he newcomer. "What can you expect, she's an American."

John had relinquished his embrace of her reluctantly, turning her over to Michael and then to Peter and lastly to Phillip. John as the elder stood by smiling. "Alright let the bird breath!" He ordered sliding his glasses up his nose yet again.

Wendy blushed. "You boys sure know how to make a girl feel welcome!"

John had at that moment noticed the girl at the top of the stairs making her way down. "Oh no, Lizzie at three o clock!" He warned.

Wendy schooled her face and turned to look at her cousin Elisabeth. "Hello, Elisabeth, I hear congratulations are in order." She extended a friendly gloved hand to the woman who looked at the glove with disdain.

"How lovely of you to come all the way…we of course were not expecting you," The cool blond intoned. "However, I'm sure we can find some _**little**_ thing for you to do to make you feel part of the celebration of _**my wedding**_."

Wendy felt the chill, and it was not the cold weather. "I won't be staying for the wedding, Cousin Lizzie. I'm leaving on a red eye early Monday."

"My name is Elisabeth," the icy reply came. "And what do you mean you won't be staying for the wedding?"

"I'm here for the memorial, and then it's back to the states for me. I've a degree to finish up. Then an assignment as a student teacher in a high school back home." Wendy said sweetly.

"Have you any idea of how important my wedding is?" The blond asked. "Who do you think you are refusing to attend?"

Turning on her snotty cousin with what she thought was 'Good old American' spit and fire, Wendy stated loud and clear. "I'm Wendy Mora Angelia Darling. Who are you?"

John, Michael, Peter and Phillip all began coughing into their fists to prevent themselves from laughing at Lizzie's expense. Elisabeth huffed, turned and went back to the house. John snickered. "She doesn't like you."

"She never did." Added Peter.

Wendy shrugged. "Sue me."

John and the boys grabbed her few cases, "You be in the old sewing room. He pointed to the two houses on either side of the main house. "We now own these two as well, opened up a few walls and its Darling central!" He joked.

Wendy sighed, "I'm sorry about Lizzie."

"Don't be, her heads too big, and you shot her down good." Michael noted.

John held her back as the others preceded them up the stairs. "Given any thought to my request?"

The young woman with long honey colored hair, and fair blue eyes nodded. "I'll be happy to sing with you and the boys."

John did a little victory dance. "Great! You have no idea of how much we are looking forward to this. You know when you came and recorded with us two years ago, we had a number one hit!"

Wendy already heading for the stairs scoffed. "You've had hits before. Darling is one of the most popular groups on either side of the pond."

"Oh we have a decent following, but your song got us longer play on the stations love." John praised her. "Knowing you're going to be with us tomorrow night at the Dragon's Kiss, well it's icing on a cake."

Making a grimace Wendy thought of the play written about her Great Granny's adventures. "Let's not talk cake." She warned.

The man in the back of the car with the dark glass smiled. "So the bird is back in the home nest…feeling all save and warm…how nice."

The man sitting beside him gulped. He'd heard that icy tone, and knew how dangerous the man using it was. "Sir, she's barely more than a child."

"Your point?" the man said coldly.

The little man backed down. "I don't have one, sir."

Tapping the glass the man who watched gave instructions. "Home."

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Dinner was held up so that Wendy could refresh and change from her long journey. When she joined the family in the dinning room, she noticed the glare coming her way from Elisabeth. She understood that her idea of dressing for dinner and her cousins were a far cry from each other. Elisabeth was seated beside her intended both dressed in stylish fashion and looking very British. While Wendy was dressed in a silk poet shirt and a long black velvet skirt without a hint of jewels.

Elisabeth looked at her with scorn, "Is this your idea of dressing for dinner?"

"I didn't come down in jeans." Wendy said holding her temper back.

John coughed into his hand, a warning, but Wendy was not sure who it was aimed at.

During dinner most of the conversations were devoted to the up coming nuptials. Elisabeth loved being the center of attention and behaved best when she was. It was when she heard a few cousins asking Wendy questions that Lizzie acted up.

Owing to the long journey Wendy finally snapped. "Lizzie, get over yourself." The American cousin glared at the English girl. "How many of those oh so important guests you keep boasting of would have the slightest thing to do with you were you not a Darling?"

The blond was speechless.

Wendy stood up and excused herself from the table. Heading toward the staircase she was not surprised to find John had followed her. "I'm sorry, John." She put a hand to her eyes. "I must be more tired than I thought."

John tucked her hand into his arm. "Think nothing of it," He led her up the stairs. "I've something to show you." He moved past the sewing room and led her to the Attic storage room. "I found this and a note from Great Granny that it was supposed to go to you." He moved past the well organized items and toward a trunk that sat beside the wall. He looked like a kid at Christmas. "Go on, cousin, open it."

Wendy knelt down beside the trunk and opened the lid and whistled. "Wow. What a wonderful collection."

John knelt down beside her. "The note was on top. Guess Granny thought we'd find it when she died. I had not touched anything up here until Lizzie asked for a few of the old candlesticks. Which I gave her." John warned.

"She's welcome to them." Wendy sat with her back to the trunk. "I don't begrudge her anything. I just wish she'd accept that most of what we get is because we're Darlings."

John winked. "Go on explore the trunk. There are things in there that are unique."

Her cousin had not exaggerated; the trunk was full of treasures. It was the silver ship that caught Wendy's attention. She turned to John. "Did you know Great Granny had a bit of a crush on the Captain?"

John put his index finger to his lips. "Shhhh…no one is supposed to talk about that." He teased.

She turned back to the chest. "There are some impressive things in here."

"You'll have to have them shipped home." John said. "We can have arrangements made for the trunk to go with you when you leave. I think Granny would want you to have them as you start your new life as a teacher."

"A teacher." Wendy sighed, "Those who can do… those who can't…teach."

"Can't what?" John leaned against her. "Come on, talk to big brother."

"Big brother." Wendy felt a tear slid down her cheek. "Oh John, that's what you've always been to me."

The head of the Darling clan held out a hand to his favorite cousin. "Come on, what gives?"

She shrugged. "I think perhaps I'm just a bit envious of old Lizzie." She took the outstretched hand. "I've never felt the way she does about a man…I've never had the least interest in being pursued. I've always been so suspicious of the reasons men were so called attracted to me." She laughed. "I called her on her being a phony and I'm just as guilty. I pretend to be so happy and contented and all in charge."

"Wendy." John said calmly. "You could come here, to England and live with us. There is any number of second and third Darling cousins who would love to court you. Myself included."

She shook her head. "No, John. I'm cursed." She wiped away her tears. "I would never put that on you." She looked down into the chest again. "Did you see this, this sword and sash?"

"Yes, looks old to me." John said knowing the subject had been changed for good.

"It is." Wendy's second love was history. "By God, Great Granny was a real collector!"

"Oh you should see the things she donated to the museum." John laughed. "Hey, what are you going to dress as for the gathering at the Dragon's Kiss? You might be able to use some of this junk."

"I'm going as a stylish Red-handed Jill." Wendy pulled the sword from the trunk. "Look, it's just the right size! As if it were made for me."

Laughing John stood up. "Don't spend too much time in here. Get to bed. It's a long day tomorrow." He bent down, kissed his cousin on the head and moved to the door. "Good night, Wendy Bird."

"Good night, John." She called as she moved her hands deeper into the trunk.

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Wendy shuddered and quaked in her sleep, having nightmares of red eyed men chasing after her. She awoke at daybreak with a start. The window to her room was wide open, and she didn't recall opening it.

The family took so many cars to reach the cemetery that the Police had been sent to direct traffic. When they arrived the cemetery was already filled with fans of Wendy Darling, the author of so many loved children's books. There had been seats set up for the descendants of the woman being honored. The cold gray sky gave way to sunshine, and the day seemed less dreary. Wendy looked at the park like cemetery, loving the mildness of this English winter. It had not snowed, and the grass was a green gold hue. Each of the separate family branches had a spokes person to give testimony. Wendy represented the American branch of the family.

"Good day," she began as she placed her notes on the podium. "Thank you all for coming. Our family has received many a blessing. All due to the woman we honor here today. Our lives would be very different today had she not told her wonderful story to dear Mr. Barrie, and had he not penned the first tale and given her access to his publisher."

A man standing off to the side watched and listened to the eloquence of the young woman. He stood with stoic features and looked at the crowd. 'The namesake has your gift of gab.' He sent his thought to the long gone Wendy. 'Does she have your sense of adventure as well I wonder?'

Finishing her portion of the dedication, Wendy left the podium and returned to her seat. Aware she was being watched, but feeling cold eyes in the crowd and worrying that she'd too little sleep.

The crowds began to depart, Wendy was glad she had a car to herself, "Driver, could you go around the cemetery slowly, and return to this spot in, oh say fifteen minuets when the crowd has gone?"

"Aye miss." Her driver nodded.

Fifteen minuets later the girl walked back to the grave with a spray of gardenias in her hands. She noticed a man kneeling and placing a single bird of paradise at the head stone. "How did you know that Granny loved those?" She said without realizing she'd spoken aloud.

The man rose up, and turned to face her. Cold forget-me-not blue eyes peered down into her fair blue eyes. Seeing the namesake up close he forgot himself for a moment. "Wendy." He said softly.

"Do I know you?" she asked feeling rather stunned herself.

"I'm sorry, your resemblance…" he began.

"Ah yes," she smiled and her eyes twinkled like stars. "I do strongly resemble my Great Granny. More so I'm told than most of the Darling clan." She extended her hand. "I'm Wendy Darling, and you are?"

The man bent over her fingers having taken them in his left hand. "I'm James…Rogers."

The manservant looked up startled and quickly away, not wishing the girl to see.

"Mr. Rogers," Wendy pointed to the flower he'd placed. "How did you know? Most everyone else sends violets and daisies. How did you know Great Gran liked birds of paradise? I doubt it's a well know fact."

"It's Captain Rogers, retired." He held up his right hand and she could see it was a mechanical hand incased in a fine leather glove. He smiled, not warmly but it was a smile that could entice. "I have my secrets, and they will go to the grave with me, Miss Darling."

"Touché, Captain Rogers" She was still holding the gardenias lightly. "I don't recall seeing you at the memorial."

"I arrived unavoidably late I'm afraid." He stated. "I was lucky to make it at all. I always wait until the family have gone and then quietly place our tribute."

"Our tribute? Your families?" she asked feeling a sense of despair at the thought that the man had a wife somewhere about waiting for his return. "Oh I really shouldn't keep you, I'm sure your family are expecting your return."

"I don't have a family." He said easily.

"Oh." She looked up not sure why she was so happy.

"No," He looked at the spray in her hands. "You really should put that down." He teased.

"Good lord." She turned and knelt down, then was surprised to find him kneeling beside her. She turned to look at him and felt the breath catch in her throat. She quickly looked back at the family monument and her spray of flowers.

The man looked at her, and smiled. The wind whipped up and he chuckled. 'Don't you wish you could rise up from that grave and warn her?' he sent the thought to the dead Wendy buried beneath the stone. 'Happy anniversary Wendy, now it's my turn for exacting my long due payment of revenge.'

Wendy Darling shivered and looked over at the man. "My that's a cold wind." She commented.

"Yes, it is." He agreed. "Allow me to walk you to your car, Miss Darling."

"That's kind of you." She blinked several times. "I'm sorry…lack of sleep and the trans-Atlantic flight." She excused her behavior.

"Of course." He said easily, "However I must warn you that if you continue to gaze at me so intently I'll have no recourse but to kiss you."

Wendy gasped, looked about to be sure no one had heard his importance. Seeing they were alone with only his man servant standing discreetly by she blushed. "Really?"

The man laughed softly. "Really, Miss Darling."

Wendy rose to her feet. "I think I'd best get back to my car, and my family."

Captain Roger stood up. "Will you be attending the celebration at the Dragon's Kiss?"

"Yes, I will." She said much too quickly.

He took her hand up in his, bent over the fingers and brushed his lips to them. "Perhaps you would save me a dance?"

"It's a costumed party…" Wendy whispered in a gasp as his fingers held hers. "How will I know you?"

"I assure you, my dear Miss Darling. You won't be able to miss me." He led her to her car and settled her in. "Until later." He watched as the car took her away.

"Captain James Rogers?" the man servant asked as they walked back to the waiting limo.

"Well, did you expect me to introduce myself as Captain James Hook?" The man with the dark hair pulled back into a stylish plait at the nape of his neck, asked with true arrogance. "Smee, sometimes you amaze me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

**Beware the Dragon's Kiss.**

John ordered Wendy to her bed the moment she arrived back at the house. He sent a maid up with a light tray and then the girl fell into dreamless sleep.

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James sat on his bed staring at the garments that were laid out for his inspection. He looked up at Smee. "Where is it?" He said at long last.

The man servant swallowed, "Sir, are you sure you want…."

"Smee." James made the other's name sound like a curse.

The man servant walked to the closet, reached on a shelf and withdrew a long heavily carved box. Placing the box on the bed he then took the time to open it and pull out the old fashioned leather contraption and then opened up the top of the chest to reveal the assortment of hooks.

James took up the harness in his hand, "That will be all for now," he waved the man who'd served him for hundreds of years off. Once alone he leaned back until his back was braced by the ornately carved head board. He looked down at the harness in his hand then looked at the prosthetic hand he now used. Over the years he'd used several different kinds of hands. One had been wooden, one had been plastic. He had spent a fortune in research and development of prosthetic limbs.

Slowly he dropped the strap, and began to unbutton the elegant shirt he wore. Naked from the waist up, he stood before his mirror and removed the modern prosthetic. He looked at his body, fit and toned. Then let his eyes drift to the stump left on his right wrist were a hand had once been long ago. He didn't waste time on self pity, nor on remorse, and had given up trying to drink his pain away. Today he was going to dispense retribution; there would be a settling of scores with a vengeance.

Although it had been a good many years since he'd worn the leather contraption, he had never forgotten how to strap it one. As if the days between had melted away, he swung the leather up and over his head, in one smooth movement he had it attached to his severed stump and then pulled the strap into the hitch. He looked at himself with an appraising eye. The corner of his mouth curled up into a cruel grin. One would mistake him for a man in his late thirties, one of the few blessings of having had lived in Never Land for so long was the kiss of youth. While the boy Pan may think him old, the truth was James Hook was a handsome elegant man with a warrior's body and a stamina that could drive a woman all night long.

Preening before his mirror, James gave himself a good scrutinizing. His body was a fine asset, and a well trained weapon. He knew the young Miss Darling was already enthralled by his animal magnetism already. He smiled as he remembered her gaze in the cemetery as he'd knelt beside her over 'the' Wendy's grave. He wondered if the dead granny would have clawed her way out of the grave had he given in to impulse and kissed the saucy little wench right there. He left his mirror and went back to look at the garments Smee had lain out. He looked down at the red frock coat and called out sharply. "Smee!" he cocked his head to one side and listened as the heavy footfalls could be heard headed his way.

"Yes Captain?" the old man huffed.

"Too many pastries, old man…you're wheezing again." James commented falling back into a wooden arm chair. "I don't want to wear the red coat."

The man with the white hair and bushy brows looked down at the coat he'd taken hours to press just right. "But you said it was your most impressive…"

"Too stereotypical." James said with a hand flourish. "That cartoon caricature wears a red coat. I want her to take me seriously; I want her to be swept off her pretty little Darling feet….I want her to swoon into my arms. The red coat is out." He walked to the large walk-in closet closely followed by his man servant. He looked at his wonderful wardrobe with a critical eye. "The blue, yes, the blue will bring out the blue in my eyes."

"Unless you get angry." Warned the manservant.

"Then let us hope I don't get angry." James snapped. 'See to it. I'm going to take this thing off," he pulled the strap of the harness off. "I'm going to bath, I'll need you in an hour."

Smee watched his master strut off toward the lavish bath of his mater suite. He looked at the red coat and picked it and the accessories up. He knew it would do no good to argue with the Captain. He began the process of putting away the one set of garments to exchange them with the other set.

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There was a light tap at Wendy's door, she bid the person to enter and John popped his head in. "Oh good," he said. "You're awake."

"Awake and bathed." Wendy said. "And feeling worlds better, I had no idea of how much the memorial would take out of me, John."

John came in to sit on her bed and watch as she sat at the vanity and began to do her own makeup. "You look rested."

"It's all smoke and mirrors." She giggled.

John snorted, "I know, but I'll never tell."

Wendy turned to him, "That's because you know I'd cut your tongue out." The man snorted again. Wendy turned back to her mirror. "Is Lizzie and her soon to be coming?"

"Ha!" John laughed. "That will be the day, when Lizzie Darling steps foot into a public house."

"She should have been named Millicent." The girl said looking into her mirror.

John stood up. "I wondered if you wanted to come with me?"

Wendy shook her head. "I've a car I hired. The man is going to put my things in the boot, including the trunk Great Granny left me. I'll be going to the air port right from the celebration. But thanks for the offer John."

The man paused, placed a hand on her nearly bare shoulder and bent toward her. "Any time you want to come back and stay… you've a home with us."

Grabbing his hand and holding on she looked into his eye reflection in her mirror. "John that means the world to me."

He smiled and gave her a squeeze then left her to finish her makeup. He stayed outside her door for a long time. Peter and Phillip noticed him and moved toward him. He looked at them. "Don't take your eyes off Wendy tonight."

Peter frowned, "Are you getting one of those feelings again?"

John moved past his brother and his cousin in a suddenly foul mood. "Just do as I say."

Phillip shook his head. "Every time he gets like this, he's right…Something goes wrong."

"But why would it have to do with Wendy?"

Phillip slapped his cousin upside the head. "Sometimes you are as dense as a forest!"

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James turned; Smee was coming toward him with a telephone. "It's for you… captain sir."

James lifted the phone up and spoke in quietly. "Yes?"

"The driver has received his instructions sir; the girl is having her trunks and belongs placed in his car now. Her plans are to head toward the airport from the Dragon's Kiss." The voice on the other end informed.

James leaned back in the hot waters of his bath and smiled. "Good, keep an eye on the driver make sure he does not chicken out on us. We've paid him a small fortune. Make sure the girl is delivered to the Dragon's Kiss and I'll do my part in dosing her." He handed the phone back to his man servant. "Tonight Smee, James Hook begins his revenge."

"Captain." Smee ventured quietly. "Are you sure you know who won't get word of this?"

James closed his eyes. "You know who, thinks I rotted in the belly of that Crock years ago. He has not even had any contact with the family in more than fifty years. Fickle child has forgotten them. Forsaken them," He snickered. "And left them to me."

Smee's eyes shifted. "I hopes you're right Captain. I'd hate to be surprised."

James let one eye opened as the man left. "So would I Smee." Whispered James quietly to himself. Then he sat up and looked at the window and the sky that was darkening. He hoped that the spirit of Wendy Darling was not able to move from her resting spot toward Never Land. The last thing he wanted was Peter Pan interfering with the measure of justice. James forced himself to relax and finish his soak. When he found the fair young Miss Darling later, he wanted to be as sweet smelling as a rose. Few women of quality, or who thought they were of quality were ever enticed by a man who smelled of body odor or sweat.

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For six years The Dragon's Kiss had been hosting the evening celebration honoring the Late Wendy Darling. It had become a tradition to show up to the celebration in costume of one of the characters from Wendy's stories or the book by Barrie. John and the rest of the boys in Darling showed up each year as lost boys. There were dozens of Tinkerbelle; a slough of pirates, and so many Wendy's one felt they had gotten lost in a sea of Wendy's. John was not surprised when it was Red-Handed Jill that his cousin had chosen to dress like. Old Wendy had sent a drawing to the little Wendy in America, as she saw Red-Handed Jill. Wendy had taken great care to put together a costume that reflected the drawing.

Stepping out of the hired car, and placing the plumbed hat on her head at a swaggering slant, Wendy prepared to enter the Public house.

The driver waited until she'd take a few steps away, and her back was to him. Raising a cell phone to his face he spoke. "The bird is delivered to and entering the nest."

"That will be all for now. Wait for her. You know what to do then." Came the order.

"Aye, Captain." The driver nodded.

A man dressed as an old time sailor opened the door for her. Wendy swaggered in, confident that her costume gave her a roguish and coquettish appearance. The long royal blue skirt was hitched up, revealing a petticoat with layer upon layer of pristine white Dutch linen. The tight bodice revealed her soft swelling breasts, covered by the Dutch Linen chemise with long sleeves. Her long captain's coat was the same blue as her skirt and bodice, as was the plumbed hat. The sword at her side looked perfectly treacherous. The buccaneers boots felt like she was wearing a second skin, and she was glad she'd broken them in long before this night.

A man at the door cried out as she entered. "Red-Handed Jill!"

She looked at him with disinterest. "That be my business."

Some of the people milling about she recognized. Others seemed to be newcomers. She moved toward the bar and looked at the barkeeper with a cold stare. "Where be the Darling boys?" The Barkeep, keeping in character, thumbed toward the back area behind him. Wendy moved past him and toward the back area of the bar.

The barkeep looked at the men now moving to the bar and frowned. There was something going on and he didn't like it.

Wendy, backstage, grabbed her side and let go a long low moan.

John came to where she was leaning on a post. "Wendy, are you alright?"

"It's nothing, John." She said gathering herself up. "I'll be fine. It will pass."

John didn't seem all that convinced. "If you're ill…"

His cousin turned to him and said gently, "It's ovulation, John."

The young man's face went bleached white. "It's what?"

"I'm ovulating…" She snickered.

"My god…that's disgusting." He shivered. "WE don't discuss such things."

Wendy laughed lightly then gripped her side again. Taking no notice of the stage hands working nearby.

John forgot his docility and put a hand to her shoulder. "Is there something I can do?"

Wendy closed her eyes and shook her head. "I usually take something for it."

"Well tell me what it is, where to get it!" John ordered.

Wendy looked at him with loving eyes. "John, I can't take it when I'm flying…and I'm flying when I leave here, remember?"

"But you're in pain." He protested. "Is there anything else that would help?"

"A nice cup of herbal tea." Wendy said. "But we are going on in a few moments and don't have time…I'll take a few deep breaths and be fine."

John said, "I'll order tea for you, it will be at the bar. When the set is over, you go have the tea."

Wendy watched him walk off, a stage hand moved toward her. "Chair, miss?"

"Thank you." She said sitting down. She turned and looked at the little vanity set up for her use. She sat looking in the mirror back stage of the Dragon's Kiss. Calming herself and forcing her body to obey her commands.

One of the stage hands left the back stage area, he found the man he'd been looking for. Whispered something in the interested party's ear and returned to the backstage area where he'd been ordered to keep an eye on the Darling girl.

John returned and saw that Wendy was once again in command of herself. He and her other cousins filed out on stage to hoops and hollers. They sang their opening number finding the house of patrons singing the chorus with them. Wendy stayed seated and listing from the back stage area.

John after the first number smiled at the house. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm John Darling, and I want to thank you for attending the centennial celebration of my Great Gran's work. We'd like to welcome all of you to The Dragon's Kiss. This has been our home base for years now. Those of you who know us, we are glad to see you back. Those of you, who are new, welcome. At this time we'd like to introduce our cousin and one of our guest singers, Miss Wendy Darling." He stepped back and a spot light followed Wendy to the microphone.

"Good evening." She greeted the audience. "I'd like to sing a song written by our Great Gran." The music began to play and Wendy closed her eyes and sang of long nights at sea, the sounds of the waves, and the lonely life of a sailor.

One set of eyes in the audience watched her as she sang. Watched her with unflinching attention.

When the song was done, she preformed two more with her cousins. Wendy then took her bow and headed off stage. At the bar the man had a hot brew in a crockery goblet for her. She sipped the brew and prayed the pain would stay quiet.

"Red-Handed Jill, is it not?" A voice addressed her.

Wendy turned her mouth poised to be saucy. However Seeing the man in the long expensive and well made frock coat standing behind her silenced her. The linen lace at his cuff and throat was perfect, as was ever stitch in the garments he wore. "Captain..." she paused, not sure if she was to use his name, when he raised his right hand she looked at the sterling silver hook and gasped out. "HOOK." She looked up at his eyes. "Well, you did say I'd know you anywhere …didn't you?"

"I'm a man of my word." He stated. "You look lovely, my dear Jill. Far more lovely than I remember." He leaned on the bar beside her, smiling down at her playfully.

"Has it been so long?" She went into persona. "I don't recall it being all that long, Captain."

"Ah, then you always were one for short memories, were you not?" He looked at the barkeep. "Rum, my good man." He raised his pewter tankard to her, giving her a toast and then sipped the libation.

Wendy looked at his costume; it was perfect in every detail. "I must complement you on your tailor."

"Indeed?" he looked at her. "You find my garments, pleasing?"

Looking up into forget-me-not blue eyes she felt her face flush. "I find your garments extraordinary."

"Then perhaps you'll grant me a dance." He bowed to her.

Dropping into a curtsy she gave him a sweet smile. "It would be a pleasure."

With his left hand he led her toward the dance floor and placed the hook carefully at the small of her back. He waltzed her across the floor, surprised at how well the girl waltzed. He had thought that graceful dancing and manners were all but lost on the youth of the modern age. Looking down into her face he could see she was lost in distant thoughts. "A penny." He said smoothly.

"What?"

"A penny for your thoughts." He repeated.

She blushed. "I was just thinking that you are the first person to wear anything besides that dreadful red coat as Captain Hook."

"You don't like the red coat?" he asked lightly.

"Not really, no." She shook her head. "It's become a joke, and I don't think Captain Hook is a joking matter." She'd turned very serious.

"You speak of him, as if he He waltzed her slower.

"I think of him as corporal." Wendy admitted. "But then, I grew up hearing about him as if he were."

"I see." He moved the hook slightly and pulled her closer. "Must have made it difficult for young men to get your attention."

"Try impossible." Wendy gazed away from the piercing eyes.

"Impossible? You mean to tell me there's not one handsome young swain awaiting your return to your …America?" He kept his voice calm and his manner cool and polite.

"Handsome young swain…" Wendy looked back up at him, teasingly. "Oh dozens, all of the age of eleven waiting for Miss Darling to come and teach English literature to them."

"Really?" He smiled dangerously. "Then I don't have to run anyone through with my cutlass?"

"Run someone though?" She blinked innocently, coyly and playing along.

"When I swoop down and…take you." He said darkly.

"No," she sighed. "Alas I fear there is not one thing to stop you from your wicked plan, except…"

"Except?" He looked at her.

"You plan on swooping down on the states?" She teased.

"No." He smirked. "I don't."

"Oh," she pretended to be mildly interested. "Well how do you plan to accomplish this … swooping down business?"

He smiled wickedly. "You really want to know my wicked plans?"

Wendy felt his arm tighten and a tingle shot through her. "Are you planning on abducting me, sir?"

"Indeed, I am." He smiled widely.

Wendy tossed back her head and laughed a long throaty laugh, "Well good luck with that mate."

He feigned concern. "You think I'll have a problem, now what would that be?"

"I won't be here to be…. Abducted." She teased. "I'm leaving for home tonight."

"No, you're not." He said smoothly. "You see, Miss Darling I plan on abducting you before you ever have a chance to leave our fair England."

"Really?" she mused.

"Yes, and once you are safely tucked away, where no once can find you, I will begin to torture you"

"I warn you," she said flatly, "I'm not big on pain."

"There's pain, and then there's pain, My dear." He mused softly, still holding her close.

"May I ask why you would intend to abduct and abuse me?" She was suddenly not feeling like playing this game any longer.

He stopped dancing and glared down into her eyes, the centers of his blue eyes turning red as blood. "I have two very fine reasons. One, you are Wendy…Moira…Angela…Darling." He paused.

Now Wendy was frowning. "And the second reason, sir?"

The man with elegant manners, fine foot work and easy movements bowed to her with a flourish and said. "Because, my dear Miss Darling, I am Captain James Hook." He turned leaving her standing alone on the dance floor. At the door he nodded to a man, and exited the public house. He walked easily away and when he reached his car took his seat smoothly.

"Your orders, Captain." The driver asked.

"We wait here; our bird will be in the snare soon." James said removing his hat.

"Aye Captain."

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Wendy found it hard to breath for a moment. She looked around the room; no one had seemed to hear the words he'd said to her. Perhaps she was making too much of it. She returned to the bar and sipped the brew in her goblet. But the taste left her feeling slightly sick. "I'm going to get a breath of air." She informed the barkeeper pushing the nearly empty goblet his way. "You'd best check those herbs; I think some are going rancid." When she reached the door, she found herself nearly doubled over. She looked for the hired car, seeing it she moved toward it. "I think we'd best leave now." She said getting in. "I don't…feel….so well…"

"Yes, Miss." He nodded to her. He watched as the girl began to get glassy eyed.

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"Orders Captain?"

"Follow that car." James said with a light smirk. He rested back, knowing soon the car would turn and leave the road headed to the airport for an estate few knew of and fewer had ever been inside. He began to hum a jolly little drinking song from his youth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chatper Four.**

**Dark Dangerous Man.**

James watched as the limo in front of his car pulled up to the front of the estate. He smiled lightly as he stepped lightly from his car and watched as the limo driver pulled Miss Darling's unconscious body from the rear of the limo. He stepped forward. "I'll take that." He said of the motionless young woman. The driver deposited her none too gently into the arms of the dark man with a wicked smirk on his face. "Remove her belongings; put them in the storage room. Dispose of the vehicle." He instructed his men.

He walked easily up the stair. At the door Smee was waiting with eyes open wide. "You got her. You actually got her."

"I told you I would." James said buoyantly. "Now be good and give me a hand with the wench would you." He moved toward the staircase to the second level of the house. "I should like to have her trussed up before the drug wears off."

"I hopes ye know what yer doing!" Smee said as he quickly followed his captain.

James dropped the girl unceremoniously on his bed. "I want her down to her chemise." He ordered his man servant.

"To her chemise, Captain?" He was rather surprised his master had not ordered the girl striped down to her skin.

"Yes, to her chemise." James stood back. "If I had two hands I'd do it my self."

"If ye had two hands there'd be no need," the old man servant muttered.

James ignored the saucy remark. "Quickly, man." He snapped. "That drug does not last long. I'd like to have her bound and ready before she awakes."

Smee turned to his Captain and huffed. "I'm no ladies maid, sir! I take care of you, not a girl." He turned back to his work. Moments later he paused. "You want her in or out o the corset?"

"Out." James said having removed his own frock coat and the vest under it. "The idea of ripping her out of it is delightful, nevertheless will have to wait for another time. Besides, I can force her to entertain me dressed in it at a later date."

"How long you plan on keeping the wench?" Smee asked in surprise. "I thought the plan was to abduct her, pillage her and then shove her off."

"That was the plan," James agreed watching as his man servant removed the tightly laced corset. "However the plan has changed."

"What changed it, if I may ask?" Smee picked up all of Wendy's garments, carried them to the closet.

"She's fecund." James said with a reverence.

"She's what?" Smee had no education and had no idea of what his captain had just said.

James was plumping up pillows to place her on, "Ripe."

"Ripe?" The old sea dog blinked again.

"Ripe, Smee… fertile…" James rolled the girl over and began to bind her wrist together roughly with a bristly abrasive rope.

"Fertile?" The old man frowned.

"She can give me a son." James said at last.

Smee backed up. "You'd get a child on a Darling? You will bring the Pan down on our heads!"

"By the time Pan learns of it, if he learns of it, it will be far too late." He rolled the girl back on her back. "Give me a hand; we need to prop her up on the pillows." Smee looked at him with misgivings. "Presentation means everything." James said with a theatrical flourish.

"Why not just have at her, and toss her in a dungeon, let her wake up having been used?" Smee pulled on one side while his captain pulled with his good hand on the other.

Having placed the girl where he felt was the best advantage, James took a seat. "Hand me the ball gag." He instructed the servant. While he slipped it into the girl's mouth he explained. "Smee, I could do that, but then I'd be missing the fun of torturing her. There's little fun in having ones way with an unconscious female… Not that I've not done that…No, far better to take by force from a fully conscious and fighting Darling." James caressed her face. "I want her to be wide awake. I want her to know, to feel, to see….when I rape her endlessly and plant my seed deep in her sweet fertile loins."

"That's vicious, that's what that is!" Smee commented quietly.

"No more vicious then giving my hand to a croc." James said his voice rising in anger.

"The girl didn't do that, Pan did!" Smee barked back. "What did the girl do to you?"

James leapt off the bed, "She choose Pan." He snarled. "Now…one hundred years to the day…I choose her."

"This is not the same girl." The man servant argued. "Captain there's still time. Send the wench on her way."

James turned and looked at the bound, gagged, and foot manacled girl. "No…she is the great, great, grand daughter of Wendy Darling. She is her name sake, and in a few hours, after I've had a good go at torturing her, she will open to me like a clam." He waved the man off as he moved closer to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. "See that we are not disturbed. If I need you, I'll ring. Do not come in here again, until I ring for you, Smee. And see to it that no one else comes up here… no matter what you hear."

Smee stole one last look at the young woman. "You're going to bring down the Pan on us." He said one last time as he closed the door.

James checked one more time to be sure the manacles on the girls ankles were fastened correctly, that there was enough slack in the bindings that he could open her without her being able to kick him or injure him. The last thing he wanted was to feel pain himself.

'Old, alone, done for.' He had heard the children chant before he slid into the belly of the beast. He looked toward a mirror; he didn't seem quite so old at the moment. Alone? Certainly not; with the pretty young Miss Darling lying on his bed. Done for? He chuckled, not he. He watched for signs of her coming out of the drugged induced stupor. He had been specific in his orders, she was to be lightly dosed. He watched and at last she began to stir. Her head moved slowly side to side. A moan sounded against the ball gag and then her eyes shot open.

"Hello, Wendy." He said holding her shoulder back against the pillows. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

Terror filled the fair eyes; she tried to cry out and could not. Tried to kick her leg and found it bound, tried to move her arms and no luck there either. She looked at the man then, moved her head from side to side, denial in her eyes.

"Finished?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm. He stood up from the bed, and moved to the door, locking it. He knew he'd given an order but didn't want to take any chance at being interrupted. Dramatically speaking, he also knew it was a gesture that would ripple the fear in the girl. He heard her cry out against the ball, and slowly turned to face the young Miss Darling. Resting his back on the door he smiled, ferally he eyed his prey. "How lovely you look in my bed, bound and gagged, my dear." He purred. "I've seen few who could match your loveliness." He moved closer. "Is there any thing more atrocious, then the thought of a woman of quality, or one who thinks herself a woman of quality, being mistreated, assaulted and molested?" He paused at a table set up with a decanter of fine brandy. He poured himself a snifter, and raised it to the light. "I'd offer you one, Miss Darling, however," he turned and smiled slyly. "I see you're tied up for the moment." He took a long slip, rolling his tongue in the amber liquid. "A fine year." He looked at his guest. "Brandy is a great deal like fine wine my dear. There are good years, and bad years. This was bottled the same year your great granny gave the world the story of Pan…" he sipped again. "Yes, a good year."

Wendy felt the rope cut into her wrists and she winced. Seeing his guest's change of facial expressions he sighed. "You'll find it a great deal less painful if you limit your movements."

Wendy looked up at him and pleaded with her eyes.

Her host clucked his tongue at her. "Tisk tisk, Miss Darling. Our visit has just begun." He sipped more of the brandy. "There are so many things we've yet to discuss." James replaced his snifter on the tray. "You really don't think I'm going to excuse you so soon, do you?" He opened a small beautifully carved humidor. He raised the cigar looked at it and replaced it, the second one he raised up to his nostrils which flared slightly, excitedly at the aroma of the tobacco. It was long, lean and richly scented. Reaching down on the table next to the humidor he picked up the sterling cuter and nipped the tip of the cigar he'd chosen. James then lifted a crystal lighter, flicking it light in one swift movement. He then took time, a good deal of time to light his cigar. "So many things in this world are rushed. A cigar, like fine wine, or excellent brandy should never be hurried." He mused. Once his cigar was properly lit he drew on it gently, inhaling slowly to get the full pleasure of the flavor. "Don't you agree, my dear?" He looked at her with indolence.

Wendy moved and the rope cut deeper into her wrists, her eyes closed with the pain. Her heart was pounding, her throat was dry and she felt dizzy and sick. None of this made any sense to her. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at her captor, really looked at him. She made the memory of him flirting with her at her granny's grave vanish. The absurdity of a man making beguiling remarks at a grave suddenly struck her. Why in the world had she not seen it then?

Brought violently back to reality, Wendy looked with a clear eye at the man who was her captor. He was tall, lean, and narrow at the hip, and walked with a graceful gait that bespoke of someone who was not from this time. He moved like a cat, light on his feet and athletic. He certainly knew about how to wear clothes, and not let the clothes wear you. He had manners and grace and style. She went back to his face, long, but not gaunt. His features were well formed and defined, mostly those eyes….Those eyes…. _**THOSE EYES**_ . Blue as forget-me-nots, and pricing. His long black hair was thick and hung in soft natural deep waves and curls. Wendy startled and the pain from the coarse rope cut into her soft flesh again. She screamed into the ball gag.

James laughed softly as he drew again on his cigar. "Coming to the realization that you are being held by the notorious _**James Hook**_, are you?" He moved toward the bed again, took out the cigar and blew a long full cloud of smoke into her face. "Good."

Wendy glared at the man, refusing to swoon like some little heroine of a romance novel. Eyes as blue as the sea at peace darkened, she refused to flinch even as the smoke was blow in her face.

"Magnificent," he commented taking his seat beside her again. "I could not admire your strength of character more." Reaching out with the hook, he placed the rounded bend under her chin. "Nonetheless, my dear, strength of character will do you little good against me."

Wendy looked down at the hook and the arm it came from. Involuntarily she shuddered under his touch and gaze.

James leaned across her tied down legs and with the cigar in his mouth let his hand travel up her thigh. She jumped as he did, nonetheless his hand continued to move upward, coming to rest on her hip. "Do you fear for your life yet?" He took the cigar out of his mouth and brought the tip of the burning embers within a breath of her nose. "Now?" He watched as she swallowed slowly then brought her eyes up to his. He turned the cigar slightly so it would not burn her but she could still feel its heat. "Let me assure you. I can burn you, I've burned others." His icy gaze stayed fixed on her eyes. "Do you need proof?" He watched, she swallowed again, very slowly then shook her head from side to side. "You understand then, I'm in charge?" She nodded, just as slowly as she had shook her head. "Good." He placed the cigar down in an ash tray beside the bed on a night table. Leaning forward he whispered harshly in her ear. "Just so we are clear." He placed his hand at her throat, and squeezed cutting her air supply slowly down. "I will snuff the life out of you as easily as I snuff out a cigar." Releasing his grip he heard her take a long inhale of breath.

He stood up, and removed his shirt, tossed it aside. "Just as one should not rush a vintage, nor a good brand, or a good cigar, one should never rush a good torture session."

Wendy fought the urge to lose consciousness. She made a slight noise in the back of her dry throat, and then looked to see his reaction. To her ultimate disgust he was smiling indulgently. She looked from his face to the harness over his shoulder, swiftly she lowered her eyes.

"Yes," he agreed. "It's not very pretty, nor stylish. Alas it is all I have to work with if I wish to wear this." He raised the brightly polished hook. "And in your honor, I've donned this glorious piece of history."

Returning to the bed, he stood looking down at her, she looked up fearfully. "Where to begin?" He paused, turned and walked gracefully over to a beautifully carved cabinet. Opening it he turned on a switch, classical music began to pour over the room from hidden speakers. "Ah yes, we must set just the right mood." His hands moved sensually over the wood of the doors of the cabinet, then released the wood. Spinning round like a dancer he moved back to the bed mounted it and straddled her. "I've yet to give you a proper warm, greeting. Your family and I have been connected for so long, way…I'm practically a part of your family…Forgive me for neglecting to greet you… my sweet little Wendy." He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, then yanked her hair back and revealed her neck fully exposed. Pulling her head to one side he placed his mouth on the tender skin behind her ear. Then sank his teeth into her and bit down hard. Drawing a fine line of blood he licked it causing her to revulse. It also caused her to jump and the rope to cut deeper into her wrists. "Did that hurt?" He breathed deeply in her ear. She nodded slowly and gulped for air. "Good." He crooned.

Wendy felt the tears beginning to sting at her eyes. Tears she was powerless to stop. As the first tear slid down James turned his face, stuck out his tongue and lapped it down. Her hair had been released, but she tired to hold perfectly still as it was far less painful than movement and the binding rope on her wrists. His tongue on her cheek was too intimate and she pulled back deeper into the pillows.

James looked at her with a pleasantly wolfish grin. "So soon? I'd have wagered a years supply of rum it would have taken far longer to back you into the pillows." His left hand ran down her throat, over her breast and kept going until it reached her knee. The hook on his right hand slashed the chemise open from hip to knee. He managed to inflict the damage only on her gown, his skill after years of use of the hook. She began to shake her head and tremble; she even tried to raise one knee, a mistake that she quickly abandoned. His left hand ventured up inside the tear of her gown, James read terror, dread and alarm in her eyes. He pulled the draw string on her silky drawers shoving his hand down inside. As his fingers reached the tangle of hair, she squeaked. James paused, not sure he'd heard the noise. He moved his fingers again and again she made the involuntary sound. He drew back, to look at her, his hand still within her silky drawers. He moved and she shut her eyes tight and shuddered.

His fingers moved again, this time venturing deeper and swiftly, her eyes shot open with terror. "Virgin?" He whispered at her ear. She nodded once. If she had hoped it would dissuade him, it had the opposite effect. James slid his long fingers in and out of her, slowly, methodically. He was bracing his weight on his right leg; his left leg was now between her legs pushing them apart. He kept his lips at her ear, "How perfect," he growled continuing to molest her. "The first man to touch you in so intimate a manner is I, the man whose name brings nightmares to little children." He could feel her responding to his touch against her will, her body betrayed her. "For you I've reserved a living nightmare, fair Wendy."

Fearfully her eyes turned to him. She could read nothing in his expression; it was like looking at a shark. His words could sound tender, or teasing, but they could not command the feeling to migrate to the cold eyes. She was at his mercy, and it seemed he had none.

James removed his fingers when he was satisfied that she was slick enough for his entry without his being hurt by a dry passage. He was only sorry it meant less pain for the girl. He shifted his weight again, and knelt up one leg between hers, the other on the outer side of her left thigh. "Time to shed the cocoon." He said taking hold of the chemise with his slick fingers. Lifting the fabric he slid the hook in and sliced the Dutch linen undergarment to a rag. The girl begged with her eyes, shook her head from side to side, and screamed helplessly into the ball gag. James ignored her pleas. He tore the fabric until he could dispose of it off the side of the bed. Her silky little drawstring drawers followed. She was naked and defenseless beneath him now, shivering with shock and fear. He began to unfasten his own trousers, "I'd love to take time to explore your pretty body, dear girl. However we have the pressing time issue."

Wendy looked at him, at his eyes, refusing to look down at the pants he was opening and shedding like the skin of a snake. What was he muttering about? Time issue, what time issue? Wendy felt her heart race and then she felt another kind of pain, one that was as familiar to her as breathing. One she felt once a month, like clockwork ever since she'd begun to… She moaned into the gag, begging her body to stop. Was it not enough this maniac was about to rape her…rape her? She looked up at him, and knew he knew. She shook her head from side to side wildly forgetting it would cause the rope to dig even farther into her wrists. She forgot the pain, she screamed violently into the gag.

James, now as naked as she smiled. "Comes the dawn." He said dramatically. He now crawled so that both his knees were inside her legs that she was trying to clamp down. "You fight a valiant fight, dear girl. Worthless, and futile, but valiant. It will make what comes now so much the sweeter, at lest for me." He left hand moved back to the tangle of soft curls between her legs. She screamed into the gag, and tired to pull away. He moved his hand, none to gently, and began to violently finger her. "I'm doing this not for your pleasure, I assure you. There's nothing I hate more in the world then a dry well." He snarled. "I could easily force myself on you dry, but it would pain us both. I prefer you be the only one to surfer when I plunder your treasure."

The girl thrashed and screamed as he pressed the head of his engorged manhood to the opening of her honeyed love tunnel. "This is going to hurt!" He shouted at her wildly as he moved into her like a knife cutting though butter. He pulled back and shoved in again, than again, and again. The girl cried out, tears falling freely as he began his rape.

James heard the cry, felt the shudder, and deepened his thrusts. Once he was well planted within her he moved his good hand to the small of her back. He felt the ropes cutting into her wrists, and smiled wickedly. Using the weight of his body he pressed her harder into the pillows. He began to move against her, slowly. "Even with the constraints of time," He said calmly, "We've time for me to educate you and acquaint you with the pleasures of the flesh. Pleasures we will take many long hours to explore during your stay with me, dear Wendy." He moaned against her skin. "You are mine, little girl, to do with as I please. My prisoner." He laughed. He increased his gliding strokes. "Now comes the time of reparations, of retribution, of remuneration. This one moment and I restore to myself all that was taken." He plunged deeper, harder, faster. "Now." He shuddered and gripped her tightly to him. "Now." He let go of his seed, feeling it spill deep with in her. "Now, we are even."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

**The very depths of despair.**

James lay back in the pillows, smoking the cigar he'd abandoned to pursue the pleasure of raping the Darling girl. The fragrant aroma of the smoke almost covered the exhilarating scent of the girl. He lay nestled in the pillows, his back prompted up, his right leg extended and his left one with his knee up as the foot moved lazily tapping to the song in his head, an old English drinking song he began to hum jauntily. His right arm was over her shoulders and his hook rested almost tenderly on the pillow of her right breast. If one didn't take notice of the gag in her mouth or the fact that she was bound at the wrists they would have appeared to be lovers. That is if one didn't look too closely.

James drew long and slowly on the cigar, a good cigar should never be rushed, but should be savored. He rolled slightly, and covered her legs with his left leg as he bent over her. His left hand with the cigar and the left hook began to play with her breast, as his mouth began to feast on her yet again.

The first tryst had been to insure that he had implanted his seed. The second had been to satisfy what could only be referred to as an old itch. The third time he'd taken her was to tempt the heavens, when they did not respond he took her the fourth time with a vengeance. After that, he'd lost count, and now it was dawn. The beautiful light of day was spilling into the grand master's suite of the old estate house he'd purchased years ago with ill gotten gains.

Wendy bruised and aching moaned softly as he began to molest her again. She had prayed for death, but death was not to be hers. Heavy lids fluttered, as she looked with unfocused eyes at her captor. Watching him kiss and suckle the breast was beyond her endurance and she struggled. The rope had numbed her hands hours ago, and she no longer felt the pain as the cruel cord cut into her each time she struggled.

Keeping his hands on her, he looked with cold eyes into hers. "Good Morning, Miss Darling."

Wendy thrashed about as far as the manacles on her legs would allow. She screamed anew into the gag, and pulled away from the man.

James rolled back on his side, pulling her closer and pinning her to him. He drew on the cigar again, and blew the smoke over her with a mirthless laugh. "Nothing as pleasurable is there, as a good cigar and a feisty woman." There was a tapping at the door and James called out. "Yes?"

"My I enter, Captain, sir?"

James lifted the sheet and placed it loosely over his prize. The glory of her nakedness was for his eyes alone. "Enter."

Sometime in the night he'd unlocked the door, long after Wendy had lost the battle with sleep. Smee entered carrying a coffee tray. "Good morning Captain." He said politely.

James nodded smoking his cigar and fondling the woman under the sheet with his hook. "A very good morning indeed, Smee."

"Coffee, sir?" The old man noticed that the captain had covered the girl.

"Yes." He handed his cigar to his manservant and then took the mug of steaming coffee. He sipped it lightly. "Just the way I like it, hot as hell, black as night and sweet as love."

Smee looked over at the girl, trying to keep pity from his eyes. He knew the captain would not approve of pity toward the girl. "Will that be all for now, Captain?"

"Draw a bath for us, would you Smee." James ordered placing his mug down.

"As you wish, Captain." Smee hurried off to the bath, not really wanting to witness the rough treatment toward the girl. When the bath was ready he returned to find his Captain finishing another go at the girl who was struggling and screaming into the gag. Again the old sea dog worked at keeping his feelings of pity to himself. "Your bath is ready Captain."

"That will be all for now, Smee…if I need you, I'll ring." James groaned gruffly from the pillows; face down still throbbing within the bound girl. When he heard the door close he looked up from the pillows to the girl. Her hair was plastered to her head from being dried with the sweat she'd been covered in during the night. Her face was stained with fresh tears; she had the hollowed eyed look of a battle victim. He smiled. "You smell delicious even after you've been taken, Darling girl." Rolling off her, he let the thick goo that was covering his manhood trail over her leg, getting pleasure from her anxiety and embarrassment. "I think a bath will make us both feel more comfortable after our exercise of the past evening." He hoisted her out of the bed, easily after he released her legs from the bindings. He had no fears of her trying to escape. He was sure she knew she would not get far. He was also sure her legs were too weak to even hold her own light weight at this point. Easily placing her over his shoulder and carried her to the bath like a sack of potatoes.

For a man with a handicap, James Hook was very dexterous. He maneuvered the bound girl as if she were an inanimate object. He stepped easily down into the sunken tub, moved the girl from his shoulder to a seated position between his powerful thighs. Years of living with the crippled hand had taught him the importance of keeping physically fit other wise. He nuzzled her cheek, and gloated without saying a damn word. With the touch of ownership, he ran a hand proudly over her shoulder. "Wendy." He addressed her as if they had been on familiar terms for years, intimates. "I will remove the gag, but I must have your word that you will not cry out or shout. Would you like the gag removed?" She nodded slowly. "Do I have your word of honor?" He watched as she nodded again slowly. His fingers easily released the strap holding the gag in place.

Wendy coughed lightly and moved her sore jaw hinge.

"You'll soon regain use of your jaw. I used one of the smallest of gags." He said in an almost kindly voice, as if dealing with a disobedient child. "There are other gags far worse then this one. I could have used one that would damage your pretty mouth permanently." Holding the gag in front of her eyes he said. "If you disobey me, if you cry out, I will use one that will make this one seem very mild indeed. Do you understand me?" She nodded and he tossed the gag to the ground. "Good." He leaned back.

Wendy looked straight ahead. "Why." She whispered.

"What?" he inquired, not sure she was speaking to him or herself.

"_**Why**_?" she asked with more emphasis, looking slightly back over her shoulder.

Toying with the captive was always something he'd found pleasant, and this captive was indeed a pleasure for many reasons. "Why what? Why stalk and hunt down your family members for the last century? Why abduct _**you**_? Why _**molest**_ and _**rape **_you?" He teased. "Why what, Wendy?"

"Why, _**all of it**_?" she rasped, her throat dry and pained from all her screaming.

James pulled her long damp hair away from her swanlike neck. He kissed the sensitive skin not to tempt her or to give her even the least feeling of comfort, but because he wanted to keep her frightened. "Have you already forgotten what I said when we were dancing?"

"All of this because of my name?" She looked away from him again, turning her head sharply and causing herself more pain. Now that the rope was wet it was cutting even more painfully into her wrists. "You expect me to believe that?" Her voice broke.

James sighed, his hand still on her shoulder his hook resting in her hair. "How easy it would be to say, yes. However you're an intelligent young woman, and realize that life is nothing if not complex." He heard her gasp as the wet rope cut freshly, and he saw traces of red rise from her backside. "Let us say my long history with your family and its connection to a certain Mr. Pan are what has brought about your…state as my… guest."

"I'm not a guest." Her throat hurt with each sentence. "This is not how a …_**gentleman**_…treats a guest. I've never done anything to you."

James leaned back against the back of the tub again. "There are guests and then there are guests, my dear Miss Darling." He moved the hooks rounded back down her spine. "Prisoner, hostage, captive, none of these accurately describes your situation either." The girl shuddered under his stroke, contact of the hook on her skin sent fear blazing though her veins. "Let us say you are suffering now because of the …_**sins of the fathers**_…or in your case the sins of your great-great-grand mother."

"Sins of the fathers?" she shivered again as she shifted her seating. Her finger tips, no longer numb, touched something and she swiftly curled her fingers into the palms of her hands, digging the nails into her palm heels.

James smiled. "Yes, my dear. Sins of the fathers. It's an odd, old but rather precisely clear-cut term. You suffer now because of what was done one hundred years ago exactly."

"That's insane." She mumbled.

"That's revenge." He corrected with a harsh tenor.

"And you picked me because my name is the same as hers?" She was not persuaded.

The dark man in control took a moment to think over her question. "No, not just because you share her name, although that is reason enough. NO, I chose you because in one hundred years you are the only member of the family to be an exact replica of her. I could have easily taken her first born, Jane or her first son…Phillip. I could have taken her on her wedding night." He boasted in a manner that said he had little interest. "Though I doubt it would have been as eventful as our first coupling was, my dear."

Wendy hated the feel of that cruel hook on her skin. "Granny Wendy didn't feed your hand to that crocodile! Pan did that, why stock us? What did she ever do to you?"

Knowing any movement would cause her severe pain, he wrenched her round to face him. "She chose Pan. I offered her a far better life, and she chose Pan."

Wendy gasped and cried out, "I'm not her!"

"Tut, tut, Miss Darling." He tapped her nose with his index finger. "Be thankful I allowed you to have a nice, quiet, normal childhood. I could have taken you any time I wished."

"I don't believe you." She whimpered in pain.

"Think back sweet child," he crooned caressing her soft cheek. "Think back to the first time you visited here. You were in the park, playing with your older cousins who were not as diligent with your care as they had been told to be." He reminded her of the past. "You were playing hide and seek and they left you in the park. Went off, thinking it a great joke. Think back."

Wendy swallowed. "How do you know about that?"

James stroked her cheek again. "Think back, Miss Darling. To the man seated on the bench…watching as you counted, reading his paper…"

His words left her little choice; she had to drag up the memory. She hated that visit, and the way her cousins all teased about her not sounding like them. They had tricked her into being "it" and counting while they ran off to hide. Only they had left the much younger child alone in the park. She finished counting as high as she could, which was not all that high for a five year old. The memory cause nearly as much pain as the rope binding her wrists. "I didn't fit in." She whispered. "I… was the outsider."

"Yes, you were." He mused. "John was nearly eleven, and didn't like having to watch a five year old American child."

Wendy closed her eyes, her cousins had not much liked her. They had taunted her and teased. Phillip and Peter had given her hell for her name. The game in the park had been John's idea. All the English cousins had run off and left the little girl in the park. Wendy felt the same gut wrenching feeling she'd had that day. She had moved away from the tree and looked about the park, and saw not one of her cousins. Only the man reading the paper. She looked about and knew in her bones she was alone.

'_**What's wrong?' The man asked, folding his paper as if getting ready to leave.**_

_**Wendy looked around. 'My cousins…left me.' She looked up at the gentleman and then looked at the park. 'I don't like hide and go seek.'**_

_**'Would you like me to help you to find them?' he'd asked.**_

_**'Can't cheat!' she said sharply. 'Won't let them call me a cheat as well.'**_

_**'As well? They call you names?'**_

The dark memories now came rushing forward. Memories she'd suppressed for longer than she cared to admit to. Nevertheless he had caused her to think back on that time, and she looked at him with renewed fear. "You were the man who offered to help me find my cousins." Her voice shook. "You wouldn't have though."

"No, I wouldn't have." He admitted. "But I let that temptation of abducting you at that time pass. Your nurse came rushing to the park, picking you up and calling your cousins all sorts of names." He smiled.

Wendy felt save with her nurse, Miss Bridges. Granny Wendy and Miss Bridges spent the rest of the visit with the child. Granny Wendy had refused to even look at John for the longest time, denouncing his behavior. Years later, John had tried to make up to Wendy, but she never felt as close to him and the English cousins as she'd hoped to. "Why would you make me remember that?" She sobbed softly.

"I could have taken you then, little girl. I didn't." He said factually. "There was any number of instances when I could have taken you… six years ago when you were the same age as Wendy had been…you appeared for the memorial dressed as her. I could have taken you then. But I think waiting made this vintage taste much sweeter. One hundred years to the day, it made it perfect." His voice darkened as his intentions were clear. "And lo, no Pan swooped out of the night sky to rescue you from the evil clutches of the dastardly wicked pirate Captain." He knew she was uncomfortable in the position she was seated or rather kneeling now facing him. "Pan was always a fickle child, Miss Darling. Had trouble remembering people and places, and things."

Wendy glared at him. "You waited until you were sure he'd forgotten the Darling Clan. Until Granny was gone and Pan had no reason to come to the rescue."

"As I credited you afore, you are a very intelligent young woman, Miss Darling." He smiled at her. "Much like the original Wendy was."

"Let me go, than. You've had your revenge….Captain….Hook." She addressed him using his name for the first time.

He gripped her throat and pulled her forward. "Raping you is a pleasure I intend to enjoy for some time to come." Stroking her with the hook as he gripped her throat and she coughed as he choked the breath out of her. "I'm sure you understand why I've taken this time to pillage you, Miss Darling."

"Let me go." She begged. "You've done your damage."

"I've only begun." He said pleasantly. "Besides, I have to be sure my seed has taken root, and that you will not have it weeded out." He scooted forward, pulling her legs astride him. "I find you very attractive." He said in a sigh. "So comely, so demure…a ripe plumb." He pulled the struggling girl back onto his engorged fully masted shaft. "Delightful." He crooned into her ear as he began to force himself on her in the waters of the tub. "I will take you whenever and however I like." The voice was now dark, dangerous and maliciously merciless.

"God, stop!" She begged. "You're killing me!"

"Hardly, my good girl." He pulled her down with more force. "Hardly." He paused his assault long enough to force her to face him. "Had I wanted you dead, this conversation would not be taking place."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

**Dark lessons of darker gratification**

Hook had wrapped the girl in an oversized bath towel and laid her on the floor at his feet as he stood at the sink and looked in the mirror as he trimmed his mustache and beard. His towel wrapped about his narrow hip, so he could admire his own physical prowess. "Not bad for a man who should have been dead at least three centuries ago, eh my dear?" He spoke to the whimpering woman. When she didn't respond, he nudged her with his bare foot. "My questions require replies, woman."

Her arms still bound behind her back with the rope cutting into her was all she could think on. "What did you say?" She said at last.

Hook crouched down and looked at the girl. "I'll forgive you this time, my dear. A boon as it were, for being so pleasing to me in our bath. However I suggest you pay very closer attention to my conversations."

"Yes…Captain." She addressed him formally.

He stood up again, smiled into the mirror and went on with his ablutions. His long damp hair was falling into long curls and ringlets. When he'd finished he looked back down at the woman. "I suppose I shall have to comb your hair as well." He mused. "Let's have a look at you." He pulled her up into a seated position, ignoring the fact that the bath towel had slipped from her body and lay pooled at her waist. He yanked the comb though the damp tangle of her hair and smiled as he heard her bite back the cry of pain. "My dear, I commend you on not bowing to the conventions of fashion as so many of your contemporaries have done. Never cared for dyed hair, natural color is so much more appealing."

"So glad you approve." Wendy replied with a bit more bite than she'd meant to allow out.

James paused, smiled and kissed her head. "So I've not tamed ye yet?" He mused. "Well good, gives me something to look forward to." He finished combing her long hair and tossed the comb aside. Standing he pulled her to her feet as well. The towel now lay at her feet. He looked down at her with admiration and appreciation. "I think you may be even more lovely naked than the original Wendy was." He commented.

"When did you ever see her naked?" the girl challenged.

James smiled. "You'd be amazed at all I've seen, little Miss Darling." He crossed his arms over his naked torso and boasted. "But if you must know, her wedding night. I made sure I had the suite next to theirs. They never noticed the peep holes. Quite a show they gave me too."

"You…peeping tom!" She spat at him. Furious that he had spied on Granny and Grampy as the family referred to Wendy and Phillip. "That's really low!"

The swiftness of his hand cuffing her took both of them by surprise. He glared at her as her face came back to face him. "Watch your tongue or do I have to have it served to you on a platter?"

Fury drove her to where common sense would have stayed away from. "Go ahead." Her face hurt where his hand had left its imprint. "Why don't you just kill me?" She stood naked before him, head held up, and no sign of cowering. Her eyes flashed with fire, and hate. Even with her hands bound behind her she looked treacherous.

James looked at her for a moment then smiled softly. "Why would I want to kill you? Rather defeats the purpose of impregnating you, would it not?" Taking her by the throat he directed her steps to the bedroom again. "You have her fire and more, my little Miss Darling." He pushed her down onto the bed, and took a seat beside her. "I've a gift for you this morning, my Darling girl." He reached into the draw of the night table, pulled out a leather item and dangled it before her eyes.

Wendy bulked. "No." she rolled and fell to the floor. "No way in hell, Captain Hook."

James looked at the strap and then at her, "You don't like your gift?" He feigned being disappointed. "I spent a good deal of time looking for just the right collar for you my pet."

"I'm not an animal that you can leash up." She said hatefully looking at the collar in his hand with rage in her eyes. "You'll have to kill me before I submit to such a thing."

James laid the leather collar on his knee, looked down at her with cold eyes and said calmly. "You'll submit to far worse before I'm done with you."

"Never." She said quietly shaking her head.

"Easily." He assured her with an icy tone. "I had planned on exchanging the rope that binds your hands for leather cuffs…however since you prefer to displease me; you will for now remain in the rope." He stood up, grabbed her by the nape of her neck with his good hand and shoved her onto the bed on her stomach. He then bound her legs again in the maniacs. "Don't bother trying to escape or cry out. No one here would help you even if they could." He moved away from the bed after giving her backside a maliciously hard slap. She cried out and he smiled. "Be a good girl." He then walked back to his dressing room and prepared for his day out, off the estate. "I'll see you this evening." He said as he went to the door, pulling it closed after himself and locking her in.

Wendy, face down on the bed fought the tears for as long as she could.

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Smee heard him coming down the stairs and looked at him. "You are leaving her up there?"

"She can't go anywhere, not bound as she is." James said pulling on his over coat.

"You want me to feed her?" Smee asked quietly.

"No." James said looking back up the stairs. "I want her to suffer."

"You aren't planning on killing her are you?" Smee narrowed his eyes when he was sure the Captain was not looking.

James headed to the door, "Hardly, old man, just teaching my bitch to heel."

Smee waited then looked back up the stairs. "Poor girl."

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Wendy watched the shadows on the wall change. The light began to fade and she knew the long day was over. Her stomach growled, demanding food that was not likely to be coming anytime soon. He had not troubled to cover her with a sheet because he knew no one would disturb his rooms without having been given permission. The rope binding he arms moved less with her on her stomach. But she was sure the rope was now fastened to her by the blood that had dried from her wounds. The house or the part of the house she was in remained deathly quiet all day.

She found herself drowsy, and gave up trying to keep her eyes open. The next time she opened her eyes the room was dark as a tomb. She was not sure how late it was; only that she had slept and the day had fled. If it were possible she felt worse now than when she'd fallen asleep. Her arms hurt, and her wrists were tingling oddly. The manacles had dug into her ankles and her feet were numb. She lay in the dark room listening to her dry sobs.

The light came on sometime, a good long sometime after she'd awakened. James strolled into the room and dropped his coat on a chair. He had not looked at he girl, but went to the table with his brandy decanter and poured himself a snifter full. He opened his humidor and chose a cigar, lit it, picked up the drink and walked leisurely toward the bed. He took a seat, and leaned over and rested against the rounded derrière, after putting his drink on the end table. He drew slowly on the cigar. "Good evening, Miss Darling."

Wendy winced when he had moved against her bound arms. "Captain." She whispered in reply.

"Did you miss me?" He asked as he fondled her bottom with the hand holding the cigar.

"Oh yes." She said in a snippety manner, " Almost as much as the plague."

"I see." James sighed. He put the cigar in an ashtray, and began to remove his clothes. "Well you shall be happy to know that nothing will deprive you of my company this evening."

"Oh joy." She groaned.

Leaning toward her ear he whispered hotly, the brandy assaulting her. "You look just too inviting in that position."

Wendy closed her eyes, thinking she could just block the entire thing out of her mind and body by sheer will power. 'It's not me he's taking, it's not me. He can't touch me.' She told herself.

James placed the flat of his hand on her bottom, "Trying to convince yourself this isn't happening, Miss Darling….Let me assure you it is and will continue as long as I wish it to." He let his hand move over the rounded bottom of the young woman, she flinched and jolted unexpectedly. James laughed softly. "So much for your bravado." He commented.

"Let me go." She begged.

"No." He said moving to the end of the bed. "On your knees." He commanded.

Panic filled her. "My knees?"

"They do still speak English in the Americas do they not?" He mocked. "I said on your knees girl." He gripped the rope binding her hands roughly and pulled her toward the end of the bed.

"God no!" she begged thinking he was about to 'bugger' her. "God no, please, anything but that. Please don't."

James heard her pleading and paused. "Anything?" He mocked. "Anything?"

"Please, Captain, please." She begged hysterically tears stinging her eyes.

"Anything." He repeated, spotted the leather collar the girl had so vehemently refused that morning. "Anything?" He asked her and she nodded. 'This is almost too easy.' He mused walking back to the night stand. He picked the collar up and dangled it before the terrified creature. "Anything, Miss Darling?"

Wendy looked at the collar and moaned. "You're a bastard James Hook."

Adroitly, for a man working with but one hand, James fastened the collar to her throat. "Yes, my dear. I'm well aware of that fact, but thank you so much for bringing it again to my attention." There were two rings on the collar, on in front, and one in the back where the strap fastened on. James hooked a leash to the collar and worked it down her backside, though the rope binding and gave it a yank. "On your knees." He ordered again.

"No, please." She gagged as the collar choked her.

"Do as you're ordered, bitch." He slapped the end of the leash on her bare bottom. "Now!"

Wendy backed up to where she could get her knees under her. "You can't do this." She cried.

"I can do what ever I want, Miss Darling." James informed her with a caviler attitude. "However, my dear, 'buggery' was never something I fancied." He knelt on the bed behind her. "Taking a bitch as a bitch should be taken, now that I do fancy." He began to run his good hand inside her thigh. "I'll wager the idea of your master taking you now, this way, already has you beginning to drip with anticipation." His fingers moved against her feeling the warmth and the moist heat. "Ah yes. Your mind cries out no, and your body cries out, take me Captain."

"I hate you." She gritted as his fingers entered her.

"I would expect no less." James mocked as he prepared her for his entry. "Now bend forward, if you know what's good for you." Guiding her with his good hand he seated his swollen shaft deeply. He growled in satisfaction as he began his pelvic thrusts. "Take it, bitch, take it all." He commanded as he growled like a beast in heat.

When he finished, he collapsed over her, forcing her to lay flat on the bed once again. His lips were at her ear. "That's a good little girl." He moaned in her ear.

Wendy shuddered. "Get off me." She whimpered.

"I prefer not to." He scoffed at her distress. "You are the most comfortable pillow I've ever experienced, my dear Miss Darling."

"Your hurting me." She whispered pleadingly.

James rolled off to one side, "Your comfort is not really a consideration, however, I do want you to perform to the best of your ability."

"Please stop this." She whispered.

"No." He said flatly.

"If you're planning on ransoming me…" She began in a weak voice.

"Ransoming," he laughed. "That would mean I intended to allow you to go free." His face pressed near hers. "Let clarify the situation for you, dear child. I've taken you captive with the expressed intention of raping you and impregnating you with my seed. You are going to be the mother of my child. I will continue to use your body for my own amusement until we are sure you are indeed very much with child."

"Let me go." She begged.

"I know a thing or two about you, Miss Darling. I know that you are not nearly as modern as the rest of your generation. Hence your state as a virgin when even your cousin Elisabeth has been rather free with her favors. Life and the origin of life mean more to you than to a lot of the young people who are your contemporaries." Captain James Hook moved off the bed, and took a long sip of the brandy he'd abandoned. He looked down on the fragile creature that was bound and laying on his bed. "If I let you go right now, you'd be able to take a pill and make my seed vanish from your body."

Wendy tried to turn her head away, but could not without causing herself more pain. He was right, and she was not happy that he understood her so well.

"In eight weeks my seed will have rooted itself deep within your womb. There will be no way you can just make it vanish." He boasted. "Until then, you are my…"

"Don't you dare call me your guest." She spat.

"Guest does seem rather inappropriate." He agreed taking a seat and resting his back on the pillows at the headboard. "And I've too much _**affection **_to call you prisoner." He jested. "So what do I call you?" He watched as she struggled to move away from him. "I have it," he rolled and tipped her face up with the butt of his cigar. "You shall be my apprentice, and I your master. Yes," he mused touching her face. "I rather like that. Your master."

"Master of what?" she snarled.

He laughed brutally. "Dear child I've lived in this world of yours for a century and I have found that as sophisticated as it likes to pretend to be, there is a deep and natural streak of brutality. In fact I've made several fortunes over supplying materials and equipment to the segment of the populace who relish this brutality."

Wendy shook her head, "I don't have the slightest idea of what your speaking about."

James kissed the top of her head, "Of course you don't." He said indulgently. Then caressing her cheek with the cigar he said in a dark, dangerous voice. "I'm speaking of the world of domination and submission. A dark but very pleasurable sexual practice." With a pleased look on his features he leaned back. "I am going to teach you."

"I don't want to learn!" she argued past the pain that was her constant companion now. "And if I did want to learn I wouldn't want to learn from you, Captain James Hook!"

James snuffed out his cigar. "Lesson one," he said as if she'd never spoken. "You will show respect for your master at all times."

"Go to hell." She whispered.

James swung his legs over the end of the bed and stood up. "I said you will show your master respect, Miss Darling."

"Right," she mocked. "Go to hell, Captain Hook." She said in a mockingly sweet voice.

One brow raised, James tapped his chin with his index finger while resting the hook on his hip. "Oh that will never do, I fear you will be a very willful student." He walked to the tallboy at the other end of the room and removed something from the top draw. It was a canvas bag. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'letting the cat out of the bag', Miss Darling?" She looked to where he now stood, opening the canvas bag. "It referred to the bag the cat-o-nine was kept in. A bag very much like this one." The bag dropped to the ground and in his hands a vicious looking whip remained. The handled was covered in leather, and it had nine strips of leather coming off the handle, at the end of each strip was a knot with a metal barb. "This cat has a deeper bite than most." He boasted. "Most are just cords or leather; some have knots at the end. This Cat is made to leave a lasting impression." He flicked it with his wrist and it made a cracking sound in the air. "This cat was made to my own specifications."

Wendy swallowed the lump gathering in her throat. "Whip me until I'm raw, it won't change a thing." She ventured boldly.

Moving slowly to the end of the bed, he smiled callously. "We shall see. " He raised the whip and gave it a gentle flick of his wrist. The tails came down with a snap on the bottom of the girl, next to her hands, but on her derrière. She yelped as the metal stung biting into her bottom. "That's just a kiss." He said calmly, raising the whip a few inches higher with his arm, "This is for being disrespectful of your master." He brought it down a second time. This time the tails spread out touching bare bottom and already wounded wrists. She screamed out. James gathered the tails in his hook. He moved to the side of the bed where he could see her face more clearly. "Have I made myself clear?"

She nodded, biting back the pain.

"I said…" He let the tails dangle before her eyes. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes…" she whimpered.

"Yes, what?" He let the tails dance.

It was humiliating, but she told herself it was only words. "Yes…master."

James draped the cat over her face. "That's much better, Miss Darling." He praised. "Now repeat for me the first lesson."

"Show the master respect at all times." She murmured miserably.

James placed the whip down and picked up his snifter. "Good girl." He took a long slow sip. "You will address me as Master, unless otherwise directed. Understood?"

"Yes…master." She sighed.

James smiled as he leaned back against the pillows. "Very good, Miss Darling, very wise."

A tap came to the door. "Captain, there's trouble." Smee's voice at the door warned.

James pulled the sheet up over Wendy discreetly, and covered himself as well. "Enter." As his manservant entered he asked. "What kind of trouble."

Smee walked over to a wall, pushed a button and the painting that was there rose into the ceiling revealing a very high tech television setup. Smee pressed a button and the set came on. The reporter on the screen was speaking beside a junked limo.

'The limo containing Miss Wendy Darling, the great-great granddaughter of the English author of the same name was found here in this ravine this after noon. No sign of a struggle, nor any sign of Miss Darling.'

"I thought you said it would be days until they found the car. Or noticed the girl was missing." Smee turned to his captain.

James sighed. "Her cousin John must have gotten suspicious when she didn't return for a second set." Wendy let out an almost relieved sigh. James reached down with the hook, and stroked her back. "Finding the car is just inconvenient, my sweet. It will be a long time before they find you. The lessons go on…for now."

Wendy struggled to look up. "Let me go, Hook. John won't rest until I'm found."

Smee nodded. "Yes, Captain, let the wench go."

James shook his head. "Too soon, she'd let that lout John talk her into taking that drug for rape victims. Now we can't have that." Hook tapped her back with the hook as he spoke. "We've little to worry over. The car was dumped a good distance from here, and the driver taken care of."

"Taken care of?" Wendy asked.

"Well he was not one of my men, and therefore I could hardly trust him, now could I?" James smiled down into her face.

"That's barbaric!"

James leaned down, whispered in her ear. "Yes….isn't it? But that is what pirates are, you know…Barbaric….and I am…a pirate." He laughed, waved Smee off and leaned back against the pillows humming an old drinking song.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

**Scars that can not be seen.**

Wendy lay on her stomach listening to him hum merrily. He'd just as much as told her he'd ordered the death of the limo driver without so much as a single sensation of remorse. "You're a cold blooded bastard." She said, not realizing he was listening to her.

"Yes, Miss Darling I am." He agreed exchanging his cigar for his brandy. He held the cigar out for her to see. "In my line of work, it pays to be cold blooded. Times have changed, but pirates have not." He waved the red tip of the cigar before her eyes. "Do you see how slowly this burns? How hot the flame within is?"

She inched back, not quite trusting he would not deliver on the threat to burn her. "I see it, Captain Hook." She replied in a tight voice.

"My but they do raise them feisty in your family, don't they?" He mocked. "But then you were raised outside of England. You might have been different had you been raised here, yet I doubt it." He placed the cigar in his mouth and stroked her with the hook. "How like the original you are. Your Granny Wendy didn't like being told to act like a lady either."

"Did you have to kill the driver?" She asked still thinking on the fate of the man who'd delivered her into the hands of this fiend.

"Yes, Miss Darling, I did." He looked down at her. "Don't waste pity on that scum."

"He was a person, may have had a family…" she protested, thinking she was defending another human being.

"He was a blighter! Stole funds from the limo company and was facing a prison sentence. He was known to drink and do unspeakable things when he was in his cups." Scoffed the pirate seated next to her. "As for family, he had none. "

Deflated she lay still.

Hook smiled. "The world is not a nice little fairy tale place, Miss Darling."

"Let me go." She begged again.

"Not until I'm sure my seed has taken root and you won't weed it out." He repeated. "Right now, if your cousin John got hold of you, he'd talk you into taking that blasted pill they've come up with. He'd have you wash away my seed in a heartbeat."

"Please, Captain. Let me go." She sounded wounded.

Looking down at her he shook his head, "I've had a taste of you, and find I hunger for more." He patted her head like a pet. "Your tutoring must take persistence, my dear. Be a good student and you will be rewarded. Disobey me and you will be punished."

Fire flamed in her blue eyes. "I despise you."

"Of course you do." He placed the cigar down, rolled over and covered her with his body. "Wait until you get to know me, poppet…you've no idea of the depths of abhorrence, revulsion and hatred I intend to take you to." His hand moved over her with skills he'd developed over centuries of dealing with women use to rough treatment. "Lesson two, your masters demands will be met."

"No, please."She begged. "Not again."

"Again and again, and again, little one." He crooned in her ear. "I will fill you with my seed over and over and over, until you are overflowing."

"Stop." She cried out as her sensitive skin was crushed by his hand. Her wrists and shoulders pained with each movement.

"We've a long night ahead of us Miss Darling." He knelt behind her, his knees moving her legs apart. "I do hope you rested up during the day." He conversed as if he were speaking on the weather. He pulled her to her knees and rested her rump against his pelvis. "What a lovely ass you have my sweet girl." He crooned in her ear.

"No…" She cried out. "Oh God, no."

He took her ear lobe in his teeth. "No, sweet child, I've no desire to bugger you, not when riding you like a real bitch is so rewarding. I've told you buggery is not something I fancy. Lesson three; Satisfying and gratifying your master must be your main ambition and objective here after. Your desires and needs are no longer of importance." He held her close with the arm that had the hook at the end as the other hand massaged the abused nipple on her left breast. "In time," he boasted, "you will not only enjoy my touch, but will actually crave and beg for it."

Through clenched teeth she gritted. "When hell freezes over."

The arm at her waist tightened, then relaxed. "Miss Darling, I am being as tolerant with you as I can be. This is your last warning. You will address me with respect."

"When hell freezes over, Captain," she repeated adding his formal title refusing to call him master again if she could help it.

James smiled. "We shall see about that." He pulled her into position and mounted her roughly. "My fine bitch." He growled in her ear. Wendy screamed as he pressed into her sensitive cavity. "Enjoy your ride, Miss Darling. I know I will." His free hand to the leash into it, fashioning it into a makeshift reins and used the end to urge her to move her hips for him.

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Smee paced the large kitchen, listening to the news. The girl's family it seemed was frantic to find her. John Darling had hired private investigators to locate her. They were investigating the driver who was nowhere to be found.

Smee wondered how long it would be before that body turned up. He looked up toward the ceiling, and gave a piteous look toward the direction of the master suite where the girl was being sexually abused by his Captain. He felt pity for the girl, nevertheless he had been with the captain long enough to know better than to show it.

Smee switched off the television, and retired to his rooms for the night.

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James, feeling more contented then he'd felt in a century released the rein and allowed the girl to fall exhausted to the mattress. "Very good, Miss Darling, very good." He moved away from her, settling into his pillows and took another sip of his brandy. "Very good indeed." He praised. "For a novice you've a natural gift."

Repulsed, the girl refused to look at him. "You're a monster." She whispered.

James looked down, his face held amusement. "Such spirit, my dear little Miss Darling." He smiled wickedly at her. "One can not help but admire your fortitude and moral fiber. It would be a pity to break such a life-force, such strength of mind is very appealing." He stroked her hair with the hook. "I shall bring you to rein, but I will not break your spirit…. Your spirit is one of your most alluring assets." James sipped the brandy and stroked her almost tenderly. "I would prefer not to have to use the cat or any other whip on you. Your creamy skin is so pleasing to me, and I don't relish the idea of marring you."

Exhausted, she closed her eyes, not hearing him anymore. She fell into a troubled slumber.

James heard her breathing go deeper, and he placed the brandy on the side. He rolled to his side and curled his body over her, protectively. "Sleep well, my dear." He whispered softly. "Tomorrow, you begin the next phase of your slave training. Tomorrow you will call me Master, willingly." James closed his eyes and slept holding fast to the plundered treasure, the captive girl.

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Sunlight began to spill into the room as James awoke to the sound of tapping at the door. He looked at the sleeping girl's angelic face, and called out. "Enter." He had placed a sheet over them both.

Smee entered the chamber quietly and respectfully. "Shall I lay your clothes out for you, Captain? You've your appointments in town this morning."

James sat up and stretched, felling wickedly alive. "Yes, do. And draw a bath for us." He placed the hook on the girls back, and nudged her.

Smee shook his head, "As you wish, Captain."

"Thank you, Smee." He waved the servant off.

From within the bath Smee could hear the weak cries of the girl being ravaged anew by the hungry appetites of the Captain. He closed his eyes and told himself not to listen, not to hear, not to pity. It would do neither of them any good. The old man busied himself with the choosing of the garments to be worn that day by the Master. He then drew a bath and waited until he heard the loud grunting of the master's release. He then tapped on the door to give the master an signal of his presences. "Your bath is drawn, Captain."

"That will be all, Smee." James said bent over the whimpering girl. "I'll call you when I need you."

Smee exited the rooms as quickly as he could.

James took hold of the leash, pulling the girl upright again. "Bath time, my pet." He teased viciously. Edging off the bed he then released the manacles. He tugged on the leash and the girl responded by moving off the bed. "Good girl." He praised. He watched her take a few steps and her legs were like jell-o, so he swept her up in his arms, she didn't resist. His long lean muscular legs carried them into the bathroom with ease. He placed her in the tub and settled in behind her.

He took the leash of the collar, and set it aside. "Lean forward." He said firmly. She obeyed with out hesitation. He sipped the hook easily into the rope that bound her wrists. It was now caked with her blood and had adhered to the scars that would be left behind. He used a slow sawing motion and cut through the ropes within a few minutes. The hot water soaked the rope and caked blood and they fell away from the injured limbs. She moaned softly as he raised one hand with his good hand to inspect her wrist. "Such lovely scars you will have, dear Miss Darling. When you look upon them you will remember me." He said in mocking tenderness.

"I'm not likely to ever forget you, Captain." She rasped softly too tired and weak to physically fight him.

James kissed the wrist. "How gratifying to hear." He began to gently wash her.

"Please, Captain." She rasped weakly. "Please, let me go."

James halted, paused as if giving the plea consideration, and then began to apply the sponge to her back again. "No." he simply said.

Dizzy and weak, she leaned back against him. "Don't you see how mad this is?" She tried to reason with him.

"Of course it's mad, totally insane." He agreed. "Revenge always is, my dear." He turned her to face him, with little or no resistance. "Besides, child, you're only up to lesson three. There are so many more for you to learn."

Her eyes were glassy and lacking focus. "No more, please." She hated the sound of the whimper as it reached her own ear.

James was beyond hearing or caring, He looked at the soaked and cleaned up woman, soft and yielding. "You are such a lovely treasure, my sweet little Miss Darling. My Darling girl." He sighed happily, as he turned her to face away from him and draped her back against him. His arms moved around her in a tender embrace. She was weak, and weakness meant surrender to the Pirate. "Let us finish our bath; I've a full day ahead of me." He said at last.

He stood over her again at the sink, she wrapped in a towel and staring with unfocused eyes. When he'd finished he pulled her to her feet and walked her back to the bed room. He allowed her the comfort of the bath towel, knowing he could afford generosity to her at this point. She was physically weak, and that meant her spirit would soon be malleable. Guiding her to sit on the bed, he left her sitting on its edge as he moved to the dressing room. He removed the harness and hook, replacing them with the modern one he wore for dealing with the modern world. He flexed the mechanical hand; it resembled a real hand very closely. He finished dressing in his modern day Armani suit. Looking in his mirror he smirked. James Hook terror of so many children's dreams looked little like his former self. Now he looked like a stylish business magnate. "A pirate by any other name." He mused as he exited his dressing room.

Wendy was sitting clutching the bath towel right where he'd left her. He took a seat beside her on the edge of the bed. "I've another gift for you, my pet." He opened the drawer he'd taken the collar out of and pulled out a pair of leather cuffs. "Bracelets to go with the fine necklace you wear." He said teasingly. Then his voice turned harsh and formal. "Give me your hand." He ordered.

Wendy raised the hand closest to him and looked at him with glassy eyes.

He looked at the red angry welts where the rope had been. "These are lined with the finest sheep fleece. They will be much easier on your skin from now on." He said as he strapped the first cuff to her wrist. "You will learn to appreciate them." He dropped the wrist and held his hand out for her other. "Or we could return to using a rope." As he'd expected she reluctantly placed her other hand in his. "Wise choice, my pet." He finished strapping the cuff and motioned for her to lie on her back on the bed, against the pillows. He then strapped her ankles again to the manacles. He looked down at her, and smiled. Wordlessly he turned and walked to the door. He didn't bother locking it as he exited, knowing no one in the house would disturb his chamber without being directed to.

He was surprised to find Smee on his way up with a breakfast tray. "What is this?"

"Something for the young lady." Smee said honestly.

"I didn't order food for the girl." James leaned on the rail of the great staircase.

"Corpses don't deliver babies, Captain." Smee said boldly, and then looked down quickly. "It's been at least two days since the girl has had any food, Captain. She looked listless and weak, if you beg my pardon."

James looked back at the room he'd just exited. "Yes, perhaps you have a point." He looked back at the tray and lifted the silver lid covering the food. "Let's see what you have here." He began to inspect the foods. "No." He lifted a plate with eggs and ham. He then looked at the croissant, "Yes that will do nicely." He looked and found honey-butter in a little dish as well, "Yes, very nicely indeed." He looked at the manservant, "Remove the tea, and leave the milk."

"That's not enough for a bird to live on," the old sea dog protested. "You intend to keep her on a diet of bread and water, Captain?"

"For now," He said taking the tray into his own hands. "Until the bitch heels."

"I could take it up, sir." The old man said quietly.

James shook his head, "its better that she learns to look to me for her needs to be met, Smee. I know you've always had a soft spot where the Wendy is concerned, and I understand you transferring that concern to the young lady in my bed." He was firm but not harsh with his man. "But it is me she needs to learn to obey. If you go up there all nurse-maidish, she'll see you as a sympathetic eye and ear. I won't have it."

"I understand, Captain." Smee took the platter with the eggs and moved down the stairs. "You want me to have your breakfast in the breakfast room, sir?"

"No, soon as I've fed the girl I'll be on my way to London, I've a breakfast meeting with the CEO of my Shipping line." James moved up the stairs as buoyant as a man of twenty. He entered the room, the girl was still lying against the pillows. He placed the tray on nightstand and whispered to get her attention. "I've brought you some food."

Wendy looked disinterested at the tray. "I don't want any." She lied.

"Must keep up our strength, my pet." He broke the flaky croissant, dipped it lightly into the honey-butter and held it out at her lips. "Eat." He said firmly.

Wendy made a face, but opened her mouth and accepted the bread and quietly chewed it. When the pirate placed the cup of milk at her lips she sipped.

James remained tolerant and serene as he fed his captive her first meal. Light as it was, he kept his pace slow, knowing that hunger was a tool he could well use in training his slave. He liked thinking of her as a slave to him, and smiled softly at her. "Don't rush, chew slowly." He warned.

Wendy looked at him, resenting that her weaknesses made her vulnerable to his efforts. "Thank you." She said as she finished the doughy roll and milk.

James wiped her lips with a linen napkin and then rose from the bed. "I've meetings all day, and will be away until dark. When I return, I will expect you to show me your gratitude."

Wendy toyed with the idea of telling him to take his gratitude and stick it where the sun didn't shine. Instead she looked up at him and pleaded again. "Please Captain, let me go."

James bent forward, acting as if he had not heard the plea. He kissed the top of her head like one would kiss a child. "Have a good day, pet." He picked up the tray and exited the room, her frustrated sobs echoed in his ears. He found Smee standing at the door as he exited; he handed the tray to him and gave instructions. "No one is to go in there; I want her to be devoid of human company. She must depend on me for all her needs."

Smee shook his head, "Yer a wicked one, Captain."

James patted the cheek of the old man, "That I am, Smee that I am." He moved to the stair case and called back. "Remember, no one is to disturb my pet."

"Yes, Captain." The old man sighed as he too moved down the stairs with the empty tray.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

**Master's pleasure.**

Wendy lay in the bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. She raised her wrists and looked at the cuffs. They were ugly and there was no taking away what they were going to be used for. She was helpless against the wishes and desires of her captor. He would use the cuffs to restrain her, she knew that. They would add him in torturing her body further. She put her hands down over her abdomen and stared at the ceiling yet again.

He had left her the towel, and she was resentfully grateful for that. Having to lie in the bed all of the previous day, naked, had not set well with her. Not that anything about the situation was sitting well with her. Her shoulders ached, and she didn't even want to think about the scars she'd have on her wrists, let alone the scars he'd left on her soul. He had forced himself on her, against her will. He had drugged her, tied her up, ripped her clothes off her body, and raped her, this because she was; Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

'You may have me as a captive, Captain Hook,' she thought to herself. 'But you will never really have me.'

Hours passed like centuries for the girl still bound to the bed. The cruel manacles on her ankles restricted where she could move, even in the massively large bed. She could not turn over, or even lie on her side. She was stuck to the one place he'd placed her in. 'Master's pleasure.' She thought sourly to her self. Bitterly she resigned herself to the restrictions, of freedom of movement. And thought to herself it was a good thing she'd been schooled in a strict parochial girls school when she was young. She had long ago been trained to being denied the use of a luxury such as a restroom any time she wanted. In the school she'd attended, one was permitted to use the rest room only before or after school. Eight hours of denial were easy for her, usually.

The sun was going down when she heard the door handle. She looked toward the direction of the entry. James came in took off his coat, and switched on his stereo system. He poured a glass of brandy. "Good Evening, Miss Darling." He addressed her.

"Good Evening Captain." She replied quietly.

James sipped the brandy as he approached the bed. "Would you like to use the bathroom?" He asked.

"Yes, please." She said carefully. He placed the brandy on the nightstand where he'd placed the snifter the night before. Wendy figured that the older man who drew their bath must have come in each morning while they were bathing and cleared the dirty glasses and refreshed the decanter when needed.

James looked at her wrapped in the towel and trying to restrain her anger. He moved down to the end of the bed and released the restraints from her ankles. "Are you able to walk on your own or would you like my assistance?"

Wendy swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sat up and then stood slowly. "I think I can make it on my own, thank you." She said dispassionately. She took a tentative step and faltered to find his hand under her elbow.

"Allow me." He said in courtly fashion, as he led her toward the bath. Once they reached the room he bowed and walked outside the door while keeping the door wide open. "Let me know when you've finished." He said.

Wendy, embarrassed and frustrated, wanted to cry, but fought the tears. She was at his mercy, and hated it.

James smiled to himself, giving her even a moment of privacy was something he didn't have to do. He could have stood over her and ordered her to use the commode. But being a man who understood human nature, he exercised restraint, and used gentleness instead.

Wendy came to the door. "I'm done." She said.

James scooped her up, and carried her back to the bed. "Did you have a quiet day, my pet?"

"Yes." She said tensely.

"Good," He placed her back on the bed. "Are you hungry?"

She looked at him, wanting to cry and fighting the urge. "Yes, Captain."

He mused, she could call him captain, but not master. Well one would replace the other in time. He could wait. "I shall have Smee prepare us some dinner." He picked up the house phone and pressed a button at the base. "Smee, a light dinner for the young lady and my self, in say…oh half an hour." He replaced the phone and looked at the girl clad nervously in the bath towel. "I've something for you." He went outside the room, and returned with a large gift box from a fancy store in London. "Open it." He commanded as he placed it beside her.

Wendy felt her fingers tremble as she pulled the ribbon off the box. Lifting the lid she pulled back the tissue. A Dutch linen camisole slip-dress lay within it resembled the pretty many layered under skirt she'd worn. "It's very pretty." She commented trying not to show her fear to her enemy.

James Hook nodded. "I would like you to wear this for me this evening."

Wendy bit her lower lip, as she lifted the dress out of the box. Beneath the dress was a matching pair of thong panties in the same linen. She looked up at him. "You want me to dress up for you?"

"Yes." He said placing his mechanical hand under her chin. "I do."

She looked at the hand that had replaced the metal hook. "Very well." She acquiesced.

"Good." He bowed, "I shall give you a few moments of privacy to do so. However do remember Miss Darling, I'm only in the dressing room, and I can move much faster than you can." He strolled leisurely to the dressing room and removed his jacket. He toyed with the idea of replacing the hand for the hook, but chose to keep the mechanical hand on instead. He changed his clothes and rejoined the young lady who was folding the bath towel. He paused in the entry of the dressing room to watch her. "Yes, the dress suits you, my pet."

Wendy looked startled as he came back in. She nearly dropped the towel. "I didn't hear you come back in." she said fumbling with the bundle in her trembling hands.

Hook walked toward the leather winged back chair beside the over sized window that looked out on the grounds. The gardens were lit with lamps that resembled old fashioned street lamps. He sat down with the grace of a by gone age, and looked at her with a sensual leer. "Won't you come here, and thank me for the pretty frock?"

Barefooted, she moved away from the bed of her captor to where he was sitting, almost enthroned. "Thank you, Captain for the dress." She said not sure if that was what he wanted.

Hook pursed his lips, disappointment in his eyes. "You call that a proper thank you?"

Wendy indeed did, in fact she felt it was far more than he deserved as he had done things to her that were too dastardly to think of. "What more would you expect?" she asked cautiously.

James looked at her, from head to toe, and reached out a hand. He pulled her down onto his lap, draped one arm over his shoulder and turned her face toward his. "I expect a kiss, Miss Darling. When a gentleman provides a gown of so…intimate a nature as this one, he expects a kiss as his reward."

Wendy stiffened not enjoying his game of cat and mouse, and not liking the role of mouse at all. "As the gentleman in question is guilty of having destroyed the ladies previous gown, all he can expect is a slap." She warned sharply.

"If the lady would like to eat dinner, she had best rethink that slap." He warned just as sharply. "Now Miss Darling that kiss if you please." He pulled her closer.

"I don't please." She said trying to pull back.

James paused. "Wendy, dear, must I use the cat?"

Her eyes opened wide, she remembered the feel of the kiss of the cat on her bare skin. "No." she whispered. She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, prepared to draw back, and was halted by his hand, his good hand applying pressure to her waist.

"A proper kiss Miss Darling," he warned.

Obediently, and with shame, Wendy turned her face letting her lips touch his. She pulled back away from him.

James looked at her with dissatisfaction. "Perhaps you've had no one to teach you how to administer a proper kiss." He pulled her head back with a rough tough of her hair. "So allow me to give you instruction." He propelled her back toward his face, and pressed her lips firmly to his. His jaw moved against hers, forcing her lips to part. His tongue moved into her mouth, nearly gagging her.

Wendy fought submitting to him, but found she was too physically weak to fight him off.

James finished his lesson on a proper kiss, and pulled her back onto his lap. "That is the way I expect you to kiss in the future, Miss Darling. When required to that is." He heard the tap at the door. "That will be Smee with our dinner." He wrapped both arms around her slender waist. "Come in Smee." He called.

The old man rolled a cart into the room, "Good evening Captain, Miss." He bowed slightly toward the pair. "Where would you like this set up, sir?"

Hook pointed to an alcove that was covered by drawn curtains. "Candles too, if you please Smee." He looked at the girl in his hands. Her face blushed with color, ashamed of her attire and her situation. He knew she was uncomfortable being seen in the dress that was little more than a sexy undergarment. He allowed her to bury her face in his shoulder.

Smee dressed the table, lit candles and opened the speakers that were attached by wireless to the stereo playing. The little alcove resembled a lovers hide away, making even the sea hardened Smee uncomfortable. He rolled the cart to the side and walked out to the main chamber. "Your dinner is ready, Captain."

Hook, nodded. "You may go, Smee."

Wendy heard the door close behind the man, "Is he gone?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, my pet, he's gone." Hook nudged her off his lap, standing up he took her chin in his hands. "Rest assure, pet, your beauty is for my eyes alone." It sounded more like a threat then an observation made to comfort.

Wendy shrank back slightly before she could stop herself. "Yes…Captain." Her knees started to buckle under her weight. Swooping her up, James carried her to the alcove. "Put me down." She yelped.

"When you have your sea legs my pet and not before," he teased.

He seated her then walked to the other side of the intimately set table, and took his own seat. With a flourish he placed his napkin on his lap. "Would you like a glass of wine, my dear?" He asked casually.

"I don't drink." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "It was not something that was allowed."

James poured a small bit of wine in his glass, swirled the fluid over the sides and watched the trailing. "This is one of my own vintages." He informed her as he breathed the bouquet of the liquid. "Good color, fine trailing, excellent bouquet." He sipped and smiled. "Delightful. I insist you must join me in a glass."

Wendy looked uncertain and hesitant, when she spoke. "Captain…I don't know how…"

He looked at her as he poured into her goblet. "I shall cut it with some water, as you are unaccustomed to imbibing." He poured a bit of water in and commanded her. "Sip, slowly. Let it drench your palate and breathe though your nose." He watched as she did as ordered. Wendy followed the instructions, and still found herself coughing slightly as the liquid went down. James lifted his goblet to his lips, sipped and swallowed the wine. "Again." He motioned the girl.

Picking up the goblet she wondered what he'd do if she spritzed him with the contents. His frown told her he was aware of her thoughts and she brought the goblet to her lips. The second sip went down much easier than the first, and filled her with warmth. She placed the goblet down and looked up at the Captain raising her chin almost defiantly.

James smiled indulgently at her. "Make no mistake, Miss Darling. If I didn't value your fiery spirit, I would take great pleasure in breaking you of it. However, I prefer a feisty woman to an insensible lump that lies unconscious, unresponsive and lifeless beneath me."

Wendy looked away feeling her cheeks warm with a blush. She looked at the surroundings of the room. "You entertain here…often?" she was trying to change the subject.

"No pet," he began to eat his dinner. "I've never entertained, as you put it, any other woman in my rooms here. I prefer to use sluts else where, and not contaminate my home."

Wendy shot a look at him. "That's rather a harsh term to use is it not, Captain?"

"I called them sluts for a reason," He disagreed in casual conversation. "That is what they were, women who hired their bodies out for the use of men." He made no excuses. "Common whores."

"And what of the men who hire them?" She was not sure why she was arguing with him. "Don't they deserve some kind of derogatory term as well?"

Hook laughed slightly. "My dear child, are you under the mistaken believe that men and women are equals?" At her renewed blush he shook his head. "I see sadly that you are. Allow me to dispel that fallacy for you. Men will never be looked at the same way women are, not even men who hire their bodies for pleasure, and I assure you my innocent there are many who do." He looked at her with dark eyes. "I don't disrespect the women who hire themselves out, they perform a great service. When I use them I pay them well and treat them with care enough so as not to damage the goods."

"That's a horrible way to speak of anyone….is that how you will speak of me?" She said it before she could stop herself, and quietly to herself blamed the two sips of wine for loosening her tongue. She looked down at her hands on the table.

James gave it thought, "No, Miss Darling." He said commanding her attention, when she looked up he continued. "The difference being, they hire themselves, you are my captive. You are not a slut, you are my slave."

"I'm not your slave or anyone else's." She stood up.

James felt the corner of his mouth twitch, "Sit down." He said quietly. She glared at him. He repeated his command just as quietly. "Sit down." She obeyed him but kept the glare. "Magnificent." He growled. "On the contrary, my pet you are mistaken again. You are very much my slave." Seeing she was about to protest he held up his hand toward her. "Don't bother trying to defend yourself, it's useless. You are at my mercy here, Miss Darling. Now eat your dinner. I want you to be at your best when I continue your lessons."

Wendy pushed her plate forward. "I find my appetite has vanished."

James leaned on the table for a moment. "It is at my pleasure that you are allowed a meal. Now eat, girl or I'll force it down your pretty throat." His voice was menacing without being raised. Wendy pulled the plate back and ate. He watched her sadistically. "Do you enjoy classical music?" He asked listening to the music playing.

"I suppose I do." She mused. "I've listened to it since I was a child."

"Yes," He said nodding, "I know. Nevertheless I wondered if you enjoyed it. One can do something because one is obligated or coerced without really or readily enjoying it."

Leaning back, she closed her eyes and listened to the gentle music playing. Her face went soft and peaceful. "No, I think I like the music."

"Even though it's out of place in your modern world?" He asked.

Wendy opened her eyes, "Classical music is not out of place…it has a place all its own."

"Well said, pet." He praised. "I doubt your cousin Elisabeth would be able to answer that as well."

"You've brought her up several times now. Why?" Wendy asked as she continued to eat what she could of the meal.

"All the Darling women fascinated me." He confessed lightly. "From Granny Wendy on down." He poured more wine for himself. "Your cousin is a bit of a snob and very good at playing the part of the important wife to be of a young lord. But she's a phony, nothing means anything to her. The only thing Miss Lizzie, as your family refers to her, the only things she cares about is her own pleasure and her own standing."

Wendy put her fork down. "Damn I wish I could argue with you on that observation. Alas I can not."

"Yes, well, you're an intelligent all be it a young woman, Miss Darling." He teased. Looking at her plate he was satisfied she would have strength for the activities he had planned for later. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Yes, thank you, Captain." She took another sip of wine. "It was delicious, my complements to your chef."

He bowed toward her, "I shall inform the staff that you are pleased." He jested.

The jest put Wendy on the guard, and she decided to try and stir the conversation. "Did you have a productive day, Captain?"

"Very." He said. "My fortunes are increasing, greater than ever in fact." The look on her face pleased him, she was confused. Standing up he offered the girl his arm. "How are your sea legs now?"

Wendy stood up, and promptly griped the table to stay up. "Not as good as I would like." She admitted. "I think the wine has made them more like rubber bands."

James snickered as he placed his good hand to her waist to guide her away from the table. "Would you like to sit on the balcony for a bit, while Smee clears our dishes?" He suggested.

"That would be lovely, but cold." She pointed to the snow falling outside.

"Ah yes." He lamented. "Were we in Never-land…" He guided her back toward the leather winged back chair and lowered her into in. He then went to the phone and pressed the button he'd pressed before. "Smee we are ready for you to clear, what…no, no dessert at this time, thank you." Hook rejoined her. "I'll be taking my dessert later." Wendy trembled at his suggestive words and looks. James smiled pleased that she reacted to him even if it was a reaction brought on by fear. Smee entered, and quietly went about clearing the dinner service. "Leave the wine." James ordered, "And our glasses." He then waved the man off. He poured a bit more wine into Wendy's glass, his own, and brought them both to where the girl was seated. He took the chair opposite her and passed her glass to her. "Drink." He commanded with authority.

Wendy frowned. "I'm not use to alcohol." She objected.

James leaned forward, guided the goblet to her lips and tipped. "Drink." He commanded again, in a gentle tone. "One can not get use to wine, unless one drinks it. And it pleases me to have you drink wine with me."

She gulped down the liquid that was at her lips. "I think you're trying to get me drunk, Captain Hook." She accused as he took his hand from the bottom of her goblet.

"A tipsy Wendy," He teased. "The thought is pleasing." He observed her lasciviously. He sipped his own goblet. "Your cousin was never quiet so concerned about being in her cups, a few years back when she went though what her parents refer to as a wild stage."

Wendy looked at him, her head slightly dizzy from the wine. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with her wildness?" She covered her lips with one hand worried she was speaking too boldly.

James shook his head, "On the contrary my pet," he gloated with lusty delight and satisfaction. "Your cousin's wanton behavior was all her own doing. I merely enjoyed it."

"Personally?" Wendy was sure she didn't want to know.

James placed his wine down on the table between the two seats. "As a matter of fact, yes. It was two years ago, and she happened to be in the back room of a certain club in London that caterers to debauchery. It's a common practice in that club for a female guest to go to the back room, strip off all her clothes and perform sexual acts for each man who presents himself." He watched as Wendy's face lost all color. "I was intrigued that so pristine a lady as your cousin presents herself as, would happily go off to a dark room and strip naked to be pawed and used. There were many men there that night that seemed only too happy to take her up on the offer of sexual favors, from the evening's host, to the bus boys."

The girl closed her eyes, not wanting to hear any more. "I think I've heard enough."

"Not nearly enough." James said still keeping his tone light. "She was inviting them in two and three at a time."

Wendy stood up and turned away. "Please, no more."

Ignoring her request he stood up and walked behind her, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "She'd been at it from several hours, and showed no signs of letting up. Her appetite is veracious." The girl under his touch shuddered and he turned her to face him. "She's a very good mouth and knows how to use it."

The thought of her cousin doing something so immoral and filthy cause her to jolt, spilling some of her wine from her glass to the exposed flesh above her bosom. Before she could react, James took the goblet away, placing it on the table as he bent forward to lap it off her with his tongue. Wendy gasped.

James licked his lips when he raised his head, and continued his oration of Lizzie's bad behavior. "I had half expected her to be worn out or at least winded when I entered the den of iniquity she had ensconced her self in. Instead she looked like a race horse awaiting a good ride." Wendy would have backed away had he not been holding her forearms with his good hand and the mechanical one as well.

"She offered me a lap dance; do you know what that is?" When she nodded, he smiled. "I declined. She offered me any number of sexual fantasies, and I declined them all. I told her I was aware of who she was, and who her family was. She scoffed and made a face, told me she could care less how her behavior reflected on the family. She said if I intended to save her I could just show myself out and send the next man in. Bold, she was about it too. I told her I had no intentions of saving her, but was there to savor a moment of sin with her. I told her what I wanted and she complied like any number of paid sluts I've employed. She sank to her knees before me, opening my fly with her teeth and then worshiping my…"

Wendy covered her ear. "No more, Captain." She begged loudly, turning from him.

James trapped the girl with his arms, placed his lips to her ears and growled "She sucked me dry." The little girl in his arms cringed and moaned. "It took her nearly an hour to do so. When I finished with her, she was spent."

Wendy broke free of his grasp, only because he wanted her to. She took a few steps away. "That's a horrid thing to tell me."

James watched her as the things he'd said set in her mind. "And that my dear is the difference between you and your whore cousin. You are upset and insulted on her behalf. I've no doubt she'd not extend you the same consideration." As she spun on him he caught her hand as it went to slap him. "Which is why you are here, and she is not."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine.**

**A lesson in etiquette.**

The tears Wendy had been fighting now spilt. Her hands covered her face as she wept. "You're doing this to me because I've been a good girl?"

"Precisely so," James admitted. "What sense is there in making a sex slave out of a slut? She's already had half of London and a few of the Darling boys as well."

Enraged at his accusation, Wendy flew at him with her fingers like talons. "You bastard, that's not true," her knees gave out and she fell to the ground.

James knelt beside her. "I've pictures to prove it, pet." He pulled her wrists roughly knowing it would cause her pain. "Would you care to see them?"

Wendy choked on her own tears. "No!" She tried to pull free and back way on the floor.

"She's not even faithful to that snob she's going to marry, she's pleasured his best friend and his brother, not to mention the man who is about to become her father-in-law. She puts a whole new spin on keeping it in the family." He taunted. "She's really missed her calling that one, why I could make a fortune with her staring in porn flicks." As Wendy's hands rose up to pull free, he knew she was already unsteadiness, tugging on the painful wrists brought her to submission. Trapping her against his chest, he crooned into her ear. "You on the other hand were a sweet virgin, innocent and so ripe. Even now in this lovely frock you look virginal and like a bride."

The girl stopped struggling, "What did you just say?" she gasped thinking of his words earlier. Her head came away from his chest; she was glaring at him with comprehension and insight into the depths of his dark soul. Her ignorance was evaporating, being replaced with knowledge of information she had no desire to be familiar with. "What did you say?'

James looked at her hardly concealed shape, her full round breast laced tightly into the camisole top. "I said you look like a bride on her wedding night, virginal and ready to be plucked."

The tears quickly dried up. "Where did you get this dress?" She demanded, fearful of his next admission.

"I had it designed for you, pet. It's a copy of what your Granny Wendy wore when she married her Second Cousin Phillip." James said with a bold brassy smile. "But you'd already figured that out, hadn't you my pet?"

"You're dressing me up like her?" She snorted. "That's beyond sick, that's….that's…."

"Revenge, pet, that's revenge." James scrutinized her mood and movements; he kept the grip on her wrists an even pressure. "You are the next best thing to having the original, you look like her, sound like her, and even your reactions are like hers. But unlike her, you have something that makes you perfect for my needs. You have had no direct contact with that blasted child Pan. Furthermore because he's a fickle and forgetful child, your family is no longer on his mind. Leaving you entirely at my mercy, my sweet."

"I'm not her; I'm not the original Wendy." She stood up on shaky legs. "And I won't be dressed up to imitate her just so you can fulfill some ugly fantasy about raping her." She began to pull at the lacing of the bodice of the camisole. "I'd rather go naked."

James stood up and pulled her wrists from the lace, fingers clamping down painfully on her open wounds. She whimpered pleading for him to stop. He didn't stop; he lightened his grip but keep hold of her wrists firmly. "I will dress you as I see fit, slave." With no effort at all he forced her hands back behind her back, her shoulders still hurt from the binding of two days, and she cried out. "You will now apologize for having insulted your Master and you will beg me to forgive you."

The pain in her shoulders was like a hot knife. "I'm sorry, Captain." She cried out. "Forgive me." He tugged her wrists again, this time she nearly fainted from the wave of pain. "Forgive me…" her plea rung out.

James released her hands, placing his at her waist; it was so small he could encircle her with his fingers. "You will place your arms about my neck." He ordered. "And you will offer me a kiss in request for forgiveness and in admission of guilt." Expectantly he waited. "Don't try my tolerance girl, I've no more patience."

There was no way out of it, or around it, and Wendy steeled herself. Her hands crept up to his shoulders, but she could go no farther. "I'm not tall enough." She whispered respectfully. James took his seat, and motioned for her to sit on his leg. When she was seated he waited expectantly for her to comply. The girl took a long ragged breathe and placed her arm over the shoulder of her captor. Turning her face to his she closed her eyes and waited.

He watched her with amusement. "No, slave, you must proffer me the kiss." Wendy kept her eyes closed and moved her face toward his. She didn't say a word; just kept her eyes shut and placed her lips to his. "Still so stubborn," he reply angrily as he knotted his fingers in her hair, yanked knowing she'd cry out in pain. As she did he began to tongue her violently even as she tried to pull back. He yanked harder, and growled. "You'd best be convincing with the apology." He warned. The girl reluctantly opened her mouth for him. "That's much better…slave." He lingered over the word slave when he finished the punishing kiss.

Wendy rose to her feet, wanting to run and hide. James stood up, gripped the front of the camisole with the mechanical hand and pulled her toward the bed. "Time for your next lesson, my dear."

"No," She struggled. "You've done enough to me."

James Hook smiled wolfishly at the struggling girl. "I've only just begun." Shoving her to sit on the edge of the bed he stood over her with an evil gleam in his eyes. "We shall continue with Lesson three, your master's needs and desires."

Wendy looked up at him, "Let me go." Her voice broke.

James took a seat beside her, ignoring the plea. "You've such lovely skin, and so delightful a figure." He leered at her. "You may now begin to unlace your bodice, slave. Do so slowly, I want to enjoy the show."

Something in his eyes told the girl he meant her great harm if she didn't comply with his orders made to sound like requests. 'I'm not a slave.' She told herself. 'I belong to me, not to him.' Wendy brought her hands up to the lacing at the low cut and suggestive neckline of the linen gown. She pulled the long laces, the fabric allowed a view of her full breasts while still covering them. She listened to the changes in his breathing as she loosened the gown. She had averted her eyes, refusing to look at him enjoying her discomfort.

"You may stop." James commanded. When the girl dropped her hands into her lap, he slid off the bed and knelt before her; with his good hand he turned her face toward his. "You will watch, I want your eyes open and aware." His left hand slid from her jaw down her throat, migrating leisurely at a snail's pace down to her right breast. With the bodice open, he hand no trouble sliding his hand beneath the linen fabric. He cupped the breast, fingers flexing and then he began to softly knead and massage the flesh of her body. He manipulated the breast and then began to work on the rising bud of her nipple. He felt her pulse quicken, and her body respond to his ministrations. He looked up from the breast to her eyes. "How can you deny that you enjoy my touch, even now I read in your eyes the denial? Yet, here," He pulled on the hardened rosebud of a nipple with thumb and forefinger. "Here is proof that your body betrays you." He looked down to the now bared breast. "Your body delights me in so many ways, dear little Miss Darling." He leaned closer placing his lips to the nub, then flicking it with his wicked tongue. She shuddered, and he chuckled softly, deeply and darkly. "This may hurt, my dear." He warned as he placed his mouth over the dark nub and began to suckle.

Wendy cried out softly, James looked up at her without releasing the bud, as his eyes and hers converged he sucked harder. He swirled his tongue over the painful peak. His teeth scraped over it and pulled it. His eyes never left hers during this torture. The hand that hand replaced the hook shoved the fabric covering the other breast aside and he repeated the torture on the other side. When he'd finished, he sat back on his haunches, hands on either side of her hips on the bed. "A woman's body was designed to please a man." He said brashly. "Your body pleases me, and will please me even more when you've learned how to entice and tempt me."

"I will never do that, Captain. I'm not here willingly." She said with difficulty.

James raised a brow at her denial, amused that she was refusing him. "Fortunately for you my dear Darling girl, I happen to enjoy taking you by force. I doubt I shall ever tire of raping you." He knelt up and leaned closer. "I'm a patient man about some things, my dear. Otherwise I'd never have been able to wait for a century to exact my settling of scores with your odious clan of relations." James smiled at her. "We will never be lovers, dear child, for there is no love to be had betwixt us. However, in time, you'll be a lovely little sex slave, my bed toy. I shall train you to please me…and I will watch as your body betrays you with every delightful shudder and twinge of thrill that courses though your very being."

Wendy found it hard to breathe when he was this close. "You're a monster, James Hook." She said slowly, forcing her pulse to slow.

"Yes, I am." He agreed. "Now unbutton my shirt, pet. I want to feel your hands on him skin."

"And if I refuse?" she asked boldly.

James lifted his good hand and caressed her cheek, "Wendy, don't make me regret feeding you." He cupped her jaw line. "Or it will be the last meal you have for a very long time…and that would not be good for the baby."

"You're so sure you…" she sought to find words.

"Impregnated." He supplied. "I detest how your contemporaries refer to it." He mused. "Knocked up." He shook his head. "Moreover to answer you, yes, little girl…I'm quiet sure." Standing up he gripped her forearm and pulled her off the bed and up as well. "Now, unbutton my shirt." He saw her calculate in her mind and halted her reasoning. "Get on with it, stop stalling, there is no escape."

Wendy, wounded and indignant whimpered softly as she raised her fingers to his buttons. "I hate you." She said under her breathe.

Again he ignored her comment. "A man gets pleasure from a woman doing little things, such as undressing him. Touching his skin with her tender hands before he begins to sweat and grind into her." He said as if teaching a class on intimacy.

Wendy wished she could block his voice out, and she hated the fact that part of her was suddenly fascinated with him.

"Now slowly, carefully and deliberately tender, I want you to remove my shirt." He commanded. Her hands slid up the front of his chest, under the fabric and she began to peal the shirt off him. "I have the benefit of a long life of experience, and I will take pleasure in corrupting you to my will." He said as her hands pulled the sleeves off his long muscular arms. He was now naked from the waist up, and he took hold of the woman with the open gown. "I will teach you to touch, to kiss, and to take pleasure in the sins of the flesh." He pulled the shoulders of her gown down her arms and bared her from the waist up.

Wendy closed her eyes, refusing to be a willing participant in her own ravaging.

James found amusement in her paltry attempt, "Close your eyes if you like, my dear. It will not help. Your body will learn weather you watch or not." He bent his knees and encircled her waist, lifting her up and against his rock hard muscles of his chest and abdomen. His mouth found her shoulder and began to assault her with hungry kisses and love bites. "Soon," He rasped in her ear, "I will harden and need to sheath my sword in your lovely moist scabbard." The girl in his arms shuddered and began to struggle. The movement excited and pleased him. "Yes, fight me." He encouraged her. "Fight for your life, Wendy." He set her on her feet, his hands at her waist pulled the gown down her hips, leaving her in only the small panties.

Humiliated and embarrassed the young woman looked away.

James again bent his knees, "Put your arms about my neck." He ordered as his hands reached behind and under her, cupping her derrière and lifting her up against him. "Now wrap those legs about my waist." He ordered. She whimpered as she complied. "Now look at me, wench." He waited; her eyes were level with his. He knew she could feel him hardening under her feeling his manhood throb and pulse with life. The growl in the back of his throat grew. "Now open your mouth as I kiss you." He brought his lips to hers, and she hesitantly opened her mouth to him. He heard the soft sob and the lost whimper as she was betrayed yet again by her body responding to him. "I am your _**master**_, little slave." He moved to the bed, knelt with her still wrapped about him. "And it pleases me to use your lovely young body all night long."

Wendy shuddered her eyes had closed again.

James lowered her to the mattress; his good hand gripped the waistband of her little linen panties. "Remove this and spread your legs for me."

The girl kept her eyes closed, as if not seeing would make it less horrid. She pulled the thong down her legs, discarding it over the side of the bed. Then she spread her legs and placed her fist in her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Well done, salve." He commended. "Compliance is a virtue."

She heard him unzip his own slacks, and felt the bed move as he removed them and then she felt him position himself between her legs but not yet within her. It revolted appalled and sickened her that her body was thrilling to his nearness. She could not deny that little tingles and twinges happened each time he touched her. Now, as he lay between her legs kissing her neck and shoulders she felt warm where she didn't want to feel anything. He was enticing and sexually exciting her, and she was appalled. How could she be getting turned on? Didn't her body understand, this was not consensual, this was rape? To add insult to injury she felt herself moisten as he kissed her and stroke her.

James paused, he felt her moisten too, there was no way he could miss it as he lay with his body so close. He smiled, looking at her appalled face. He shifted slightly to allow his good hand passage to her moisture, as one finger side through the slickness and into her. "It pleases me," He said dangerously, "to please you. To give you pleasure even where you don't want it." He watched as she fought reacting to the finger that slid over her love nub and into her. "You've a hot little honey pot there and," he felt her shiver with the excitement of being fingered and made hot. He leaned closer. "You feel like velvet." He moaned in her ear. His words caused her to release even more slickness. He placed his mouth over hers and parted her lips to his probing tongue. "Moan for me, little one, moan." Wendy was no longer in control and moaned as he quickened the pace of his fingers in her. "Do you want more?" He asked, and she nodded unable to speak and repulsed by her desires for him to ravage her. He pulled his fingers back and easily replaced them with his long throbbing manhood. "I'm going to ride you hard and fast and put you away wet." He promised.

Wendy cried out as he began his thrusts, to her shame it was not cries of pain, but cries of sexual excitement. He had broken her, and he knew it as well as she did. He brought her close to climax over and over, then backed away only to ride her to the edge again and again. When she thought she could stand no more she begged him. "More! Don't stop…"

Taking her face into his good hand, her scent still lingering on his fingers, he commanded her. "Call me master."

"Master." She swallowed the sob in her throat.

James moved his hips. "Now mean it." He commanded in a ruthlessly strict tone.

Wendy looked away and refused.

"Still a bit of fight left in you?" James teased, as he quickened his thrusts. "I was afraid I'd broken you already. It would have been such a pity had that been the case." He knew she was close to reaching an orgasm. He'd toyed with the idea of not allowing her to have release, but because his own release was so close chose to allow the wave of passion to engulf them both at the same moment. He quickened and deepened his strokes within her, heard her gasping for air, and gripped her hard to him as they exploded onto one another. Wendy lay beneath him; her eyes clenched shut, and sobbing. James rolled to his side pulling her onto hers, as he closed his eyes. "Well done, slave." He praised. He heard her sob into his shoulder, and he smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

**Reaching for stars.**

It had been three days since Wendy had called him Master. She looked out the window of the master suite onto the dormant lawn and wondered where in England she was. Part of her mind, a part she hide carefully from the pirate was still hers. She heard soft cursing and turned to see what was his trouble now.

James was seated on the bed trying to button his shirt with his good hand and the mechanical one. "Blasted new buttons." He muttered.

Wendy watched him struggle, but without permission knew she should not approach him. There were small bruises on her arms and one on her thigh. They were the lessons that she would never forget.

James looked up, feeling her watch him. He dropped his hands uselessly to his sides. "Come here, wench!" He ordered harshly. He had been harsher with her since in the last two days. He pointed to the space between his knees and watched her kneel before him. "Smee is busy with duties, button this blasted shirt, woman."

Wendy didn't speak, nor did she look into the cold eyes of the man, she let her fingers move to the buttons and finished the job his hands could not. Deftly she closed the shirt and smoothed it over his shoulders. He wordlessly handed her the tie and watched her closely as she placed it under his collar and tied it in a perfect Windsor knot. She smoothed the collar down over the tie and knelt back.

James, who was silent, didn't move. He just stared at her wondering what life would have been like had he married. He looked at the young woman kneeling on the floor between his legs. She was not beautiful, not by the modern standard. In his day she'd have been referred to as a handsome young woman. Her body was nicely shaped, he had not missed that. Her voice was pleasant, and cultured. She moved with grace, and had manners that most young people had forgotten even when trained to use them. He stared down at her, feeling his gaze her eyes slowly came up to meet his. She had something else, a stubborn streak. He sighed, she was still not broken. Betrayed by her body, yes, downtrodden, certainly, but hardly broken. She was still in control.

James savagely gripped her hair and pulled her face up to his. "I'll be gone for a few days, my little captive, business." He growled at her. "You will have no visitors; Smee will bring your meals but not speak to you." He released her hair as savagely as he'd gripped it. She was sent sprawling a few feet away. "Use your time well, wench." He stepped over her and exited the room, never even looking back.

Wendy waited, when she heard his steps on the stairs, she let the silent tears fall. Slowly she pulled herself off the floor, ripped off the nightgown and robe he'd insisted on her wearing and tore them to shreds. She went to the bath room and filled the tub again. She'd been forced to bath with that man, to scrub his back and anything else he wanted. This time she scrubbed herself, working hard to remove the vile feel of his touch.

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James found Smee with his overcoat, waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. "I want you to cut off the radio to that room. No sound is she to hear until I return." He instructed his manservant. "I want her deprived of all humanity! No sounds of any kind!" He looked at the man. "And she is to have but one meal a day. Bread, milk, honey only. The barest of meals and only in the evening, is this understood?"

Smee had worried eyes. "Aye, Captain…but the baby?"

"Will be fine, it will take from her what she gets." James looked back at his door up the stairs. "I want her weakened, when I return she will break to my will."

Smee also looked at the door, worried. "And if she does not?"

James looked at the man, his eyes blazing with hate. "Then I will kill her."

"Captain!" Smee admonished.

James patted the servants arm. "She'll break." He promised. "She's near the break now. Three days with out me will have her longing for my return, my touch…my mercy." He winked. "I was a master of torture, remember?"

"Aye, Captain." Smee nodded. "But this one, she's not like anyone else. I think she's stronger than her great granny ever was!"

James looked at the door once more. "It's a pity having to destroy so lovely a porcelain doll." He lamented. "Pity she was born a Darling."

Smee watched the master of the house leave; he looked back up at the door and muttered. "Pity the poor girl ever encountered you." He went about his work for the day.

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Feeling a bit more cleanly, Wendy padded on bear feet into bedroom. She moved to the armoire that the garments she was allowed to wear were in. She opened the door and leaned on the edge of the wood to gaze at the collection. In the back of the garments was something James had not seemed to care much for. It was a linen day dress, a soft green color, like sage that had been harvested. It was cut with a wide skirt and a fitted bodice. She pulled it out of the armoire and pulled it on. In a drawer she found little slippers that fit, and she put these on as well. Dressed she moved to look out the windows again. Prisoner though she may be, her mind was still free and she vowed it would remain so.

A clock in the room, which had a ship's like bell sounded the hour. Smee didn't come. Hour upon hour passed, and Smee didn't come. Wendy took a seat in one of the large winged chairs. Fear crept up into her throat from her stomach. She looked at the clock, and counted the hours since the Captain had departed from her company. He had left the rooms at nearly ten, and it was now just after five in the afternoon. She'd been sitting in the winged chair for over three hours, and he was gone now seven. She looked out the window; fear her only companion in the room. At eight the door opened, Smee walked in, not looking at her with a tray in his hands. He placed it on the dining table in the little alcove. He turned, again his eyes never met hers, and he exited the rooms.

Wendy walked over to the table, looked down at the meager repast. She lifted the crust of bread, and thanked the Gods it was at least fresh. Dipping some honey on the bread she ate it slowly. She had a feeling it was going to have to last her. Slowly she poured some honey into the milk and stirred it. She had never liked milk, but at least with the honey it didn't taste too bad. She finished her meal, and walked back to the winged chair but didn't take a seat. She moved to where James always stood to turn on the music. She reached out tentatively and turned the switch, as she feared the power to the machine had been cut off.

Being a Darling, Wendy had long ago studied pirates and their ways. James was depriving her. Deprivation was an effective tool, and Wendy was already in a weakened state. She sunk into the chair and stared at the sky as it filled with stars now that the sun had gone down. "Second star to the right and straight on to morning," she said as if it were a mantra. She repeated it over and over and over until she fell asleep in the arm chair.

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James was being entertained in one of the more fashionable houses in London. He charmed his hostess and her pretty daughter. His manners never failed him when he wanted to use them. He allowed the hostess to cling to his good arm as he escorted her to the dining room.

"Captain Rogers," She cooed. "I'm just so surprised that you've no wife…"

"Alas, dear lady," He lamented on cue. "Few women wish to be saddled with a war hero who has lost a limb. The girls of today are…not as gracious as the ladies of your age."

The hostess preened and blushed.

James let his eyes wander the daughter of the house, though she was already engaged she was looking at James as if he were a ice cream Sunday. "And the few that are, alas and alack are already spoken for."

Now the daughter blushed.

James was enjoying this immensely. He spent the evening pleasantly discussing the issues of the day with the master of the house. When it came time to take his leave he was escorted to the door by the daughter of the house who discreetly inquired as to where he was staying in town. James told her quietly he had a residence not far, gave her the address and watched as she blushed softly.

He sipped a brandy in his rooms, and smiled as he heard the soft tapping on his door. He put on a surprised look as he found the daughter of his host and hostess standing in the dimly lit hall. "Miss Bentley." He opened the door to bid her entry.

The girl moved in and looked at him. "I hope you'll forgive my late visit." She held out a satchel of papers. "But you forgot this when you left this evening, and I though you might have need of it in the morning."

James took the satchel, and also her hand. He raised it to his lips. "How kind of you to think of my needs," he purred.

The girl watched with a mesmerized gaze. "Not at all."

He looked at her with a wolfish hunger. "Won't you take off your coat, and keep company with me?"

Her coat fell off her shoulders, landing at her feet. Her eyes never left his. "I cannot stay long." She whispered.

James smiled as he pulled her into his embrace. "Then let us not waste time," lifting her off her feet he carried her to his bedroom. "Let's not pretend that we don't know why you came here tonight Margery Bentley. You came to feel what my bedding is like, did you not?"

"Yes." She moaned. "Yes."

James smiled as he kicked the door closed.

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Something at the window caused Wendy to open her eyes. A strange sound, something tapping, and screeching. The girl opened her eyes and saw pellets of ice striking. A cold knife like feeling went though her. She had been dreaming, dreaming of fairy like creatures coming to her rescue, only to open her eyes to ice. Never Land had abandoned her, and the rest of the Darlings she was sure. She cried softly.

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James took his time bedding the girl beneath him. She moaned as he slid deeply within her. He asked curtly if her betrothed ever filled her so completely, only to have her moan and shake her head. He teased the girl, telling her that was a pity. He told her girls like her needed to be completely filled. He told her he pitied her, that now that she'd had a real man she'd find the other wanting. He was amused by her enthusiasm in betraying her beloved soon to be husband. He asked her if she would be willing to entertain him after her wedding. She panted under him that she would give her soul to him if she could. He laughed softly at the thought. She then offered to be his mistress, and he turned her down.

"I've no need for a mistress. Now with London filled with young women ready to come to my bed." He kissed her shoulder. "However," he said with gentleness that belied his deepest feelings. "I will gladly accept your hospitality from time to time…. In your new home…in your new husband's bed."

"Anything!" she raised her hips to meet his.

James smiled to himself as he satisfied the stupid girl beneath him. He then wondered what Wendy was doing.

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Wendy ached as the sun rose and filled her room. She pulled herself from the chair and staggered groggily to the bath. She filled the tub and removed the green gown. When she left the bath she was not surprised to find Smee had cleared her tray and the room was empty once more.

This day passed as much as the day before it had. She stared out the window, deprived of human company. Again in the evening Smee appeared with the tray. She ate but not happily. This time she turned off the lights when she took her seat at the windows. She stared at the stars, again repeating the mantra, "Second star to the right…straight on to morning…" over and over. Hour after hour passed, she heard the ships bell ring eleven and she rose from the chair. Placing her hands on the cold glass of the window she raged. "How could you forsaken us! How could you leave me to this, Pan…how could you?"

Crumpling into a puddle at the base of the window she cried.

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James opened his door; he was truly surprised when he found Mrs. Bentley standing on the other side. "Abigail, how lovely to see you."

The hostess from the evening before sighed. "Forgive the intrusion, but I found this and thought you might need it." In her hands was a scarf that James knew full well was his.

"Do come in." He smiled gently, as his hand took the offered scarf. "I had wondered what became of this. I am not careful enough with my garments." He teased.

Abigail Bentley stood in his rooms looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, well Phillip is not always careful with his wool scarf either." She commented.

"Would you join me in a drink?" He offered with a hand toward the little bar set up on the stand.

"Yes, thank you." She removed her coat and draped it over a chair. "Scotch if you have it. Neat please."

He poured and handed it to her, then watched as she sipped the liquid. "And where is Phillip this evening?"

"He has his night at the club." Abigail stated with a grim grin.

"And your charming daughter? Won't she miss her…mummy?" James had played this game with others so often.

"She and her young man are being entertained by Sir Lawson and his family." The woman smiled.

James smiled as well. "Abigail," He addressed her without pretending. "Let's be straight with one another. Did you come here to return my scarf or in hopes of a little sex?"

Abigail smiled up at him, "In hopes of a lot of Sex, Captain Rogers." She stated honestly.

James laughed softly. "The bedroom is though there, go and get naked, I'll be right in."

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Wendy paced in front of the window, cursing the blasted child called Pan. Cursing the fairy kingdom and cursing the original Wendy. The howl of the wind chilled her, and she turned her back on the stars. "Screw you all!" She fumed as she walked away from the windows and tossed herself to the captain's bed.

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Smoking a long thin cigar after he'd finished he looked down at the satisfied face of his partner. "You're not bad for a middle aged woman, Abby. Better than your daughter, but she has time to mature into a fine lover."

Abigail pouted, "You mean to tell me, my daughter has been here?"

"I had her last night." He said smoking contently. "You tonight….perhaps it will be Phillip who comes to me tomorrow." He mused.

"That's not funny, Captain Rogers." Abigail gasped.

"No, it's not." He agreed as he took hold of her breast. "But it's true. I've had men use persuasion in business before. And a good cock sucking is a good cock sucking no matter who administers it, Abby."

She glared at him. "I didn't come here to persuade you to do business with Phillip."

"I know that too." He blew smoke at her. "You came here to get screwed, and I've done that, haven't I….I screwed you better than you've been screwed in a long time, Abby."

She pushed his hand away from her breast. "I think we're though here."

James gripped her hair. "Not until I say we're though, Abby. Now be a good girl…" The woman cried out as he filled her mouth with his engorged member. "Suck." As she did as ordered, James mind went to Wendy miles away.

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Wendy felt the warmth of the sun as it filled the room. She rose from the bed, stumbled to the bath and drew it. She looked into the mirror over the sink, and frowned at the dark circles. She bathed, dressed and took a seat in the chair to stare out at the desolate countryside.

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Phillip stood beside James in the private dining room of the expensive London hotel. He watched as Rogers read over the contract. "You dive a hard bargain, Rogers!"

"No harder than you." James commented as he read on.

Phillip Bentley scoffed lightly. "Hell man, you're more like a pirate than a businessman."

James lifted one brow and cocked his head to one side. "Today a businessman must be part pirate."

Bentley held out his pen. "It's a good deal for both of us." He urged the other to sign.

James smiled; "Tell me, Phillip…just what does this do for you?"

"It solidifies my position with the company." He admitted.

"Nothing else?" James asked shortly.

"You know damn well it does more." Phillip sighed. "It means the company goes on…" he again offered the pen.

"Enough to, oh say…make you offer certain… inducement or enticements to sweeten the offer?"

"Enough to make me over look the fact that you've sacked both my wife and daughter." Phillip said coldly.

James smiled, "I'm glad to know that was not overlooked entirely. I hate doing business with a man who is not aware." He placed the contract on the table. "Tell me, why do you indorse the marriage of your daughter to that fool boy?"

Phillip assessed the man before him then answered. "If Maggie had been born a boy…it would have been different….I was married to Abigail by arrangement. Neither she nor I really care for one another. I turn a blind eye as does she… the child was to cement us…. And give me an heir…. A daughter is only a bargaining chip! My partner and I hated the idea of the wealth going out of the family…we arranged for the marriage much as our fathers did ours. This contract means there will be business for them to inherit."

"I like your honesty." James stated. "I enjoyed bedding your wife and daughter. I may wish to do so in the future."

Phillip shrugged and nodded. "Do so."

"But I need to know you are…true to me as well, Phillip." James smiled eerily.

The man looked at the man with the contract at his finger tips. "What do you want?"

James smiled coldly.

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Wendy ate the last morsel of bread in darkness. She had not bothered with the lights. Here in the darkness she cursed the light, and cursed the Pan. She cursed everything. The icy wind pelted the window with snow, and clouds hide the stars.

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Disgusted with himself, Phillip watched as James signed the contract. He wanted to gag and die. "You are a pirate." He growled at the man who handed him the contract.

"When I reach for stars, I get them." James said coldly. "Now go home and send your whore of a wife to me. My bed is cold. Send your daughter as well. Tell them to dress like the true tarts they are." He opened the door of the dining room for his newest partner. "And Phillip, you come as well. We'll make it a real orgie."

Phillip shook with rage. "Haven't you done enough to me, to us?"

"No." James stated coldly. "None go, bring back those whores for us to enjoy."

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The wind was cold and howled like a banshee. Wendy had given up the mantra; she now paced in front of the window silently. She was cold inside, and hungry. The howl became too much for her, she smashed her hands into the window breaking the expensive glass and cutting her hands. Falling to the ground she lay there until Smee pulled her away to clean her hands and bandage them. The men who came to board up the window for the night had been warned not to look at her or speak to her. Smee didn't speak as he bound her wounded hands. He could see her soul was wounded as well, and he pitied her.

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Phillip returned to the address of James residence in the city. His wife and daughter in the tacky dresses accompanied him. James opened the door and smiled at the family. He bid them enter. He told the women to take off their coats. He looked at the tacky dresses and gave approval. Placing a hand over Abigail's shoulder and squeezing her breast with his mechanical hand, he shoved Maggie toward her father. Phillip stared at the man with hollow eyes. "Phillip, why don't you take payment in return for all you've given Maggie?"

Maggie stared from one man to the other. "No." She whispered at her father shaking her head. "No."

James was disrobing Abigail. "You do that whore while I do this one."

Abigail whimpered softly. Maggie gasped as her father tore her dress from her shoulders with more rage than she knew he was capable of.

James smiled. "Watch." He breathed in Abigail's ear.

Hours later, James opened the door as the trio left. "I want to thank you for a lovely time here in London…we must do it again…soon."

Maggie, tears staining her cheek along with makeup moaned pitifully as she passed him. Abigail kept her eyes from meeting his. Only Phillip looked at him, shook his hand and left with a bit of a swagger. James closed the door and went to bed.

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Wendy sat in the chair for the day; from time to time she'd look at the bandages on her hands. Men had come during the day to repair the window she'd broken. She had gone silent, like the room.

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James entered the house as nightfall had taken away the light of the sun. He shrugged out of his coat and left it on the newel post. He turned at the sound of someone coming from the kitchen. "Smee." He greeted, pleased with himself. "How's our captive."

"She broke a window and cut her hands." The old man reported with sadness.

"How bad?" James was suddenly concerned. "She didn't need stitches did she?"

"No." Smee said. "But it will leave scars."

James looked at the hand that was not his own. "There are scars and then there are scars."

Smee nodded. "I was getting her dinner." He showed the captain the tray.

James waved him off. "No, not tonight, tonight she will feast only on me and my presences."

"Captain," Smee protested. " That girl has had little enough to keep a bird alive…"

"One night without food will not harm her or the child she carries." James said smoothing his long hair. "Tonight she will welcome me, and feed only on my being with her." He began to ascend the stairs.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Smee called as he turned to return to the kitchen with the tray.

James opened the door, looked in and found Wendy standing at the window. She was dressed in a long white gown, and turned when she heard the sound. He watched as she moved toward him. A few feet from him she fell to her knees. "Captain." She moaned softly.

"Wendy." He greeted her with warmth. "Come greet me."

She rose again, on shaky feet she moved toward him. When she came before him she slowly slid her hands to his waist. "Welcome home." She began to cry.

He took her in his arms, held her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Don't leave me again." She begged. Her voice muffled in his shirt.

"Who is your master?" He whispered.

"You are," she looked up at him. "You are."

He nodded, smiled and cupped her chin. "Have you missed me, poppet?"

"Yes." She answered.

James bent slightly and picked her up, his face inches from hers. "Show me."

Wendy kissed his respectfully, and then placed her head on his shoulder.

James carried her to the bed. The broken Wendy gave in to his needs grateful for human touch and sounds. He stroked her long after she'd fallen asleep; amazed by the stark truth he was now aware of. He'd missed her, and was glad to be back in her presences. He frowned; this was not part of his plan. He looked at the woman sleeping with a contended look on her angelic face. "Little witch." He growled. She didn't awaken, she just held to him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

**The captive and the Captain**

Smee over the years had become an excellent cook; his pride was in making _**soufflé**_. As this was on occasion and he knew his captain would be hungry for sure he created a French toast _**soufflé**_ for the Captain's pleasure. He had fresh squeezed fruit juice as well as chilled compote, and sausages browned to perfection. He placed the rolling cart into the dumb waiter, and sent it up while he took the stairs.

The Captain rose with the dawn, he shook the young woman awake. "Come bathe and tell me how you injured your hands." Wendy, more groggy then she should be, nodded her consent to being awakened. He watched as she peeled herself out of her garments without hesitation now. He smiled as she assisted him in removing the harness that held his faux hand in place. Taking a seat in the tub he drew her back against his chest and rested his head on her shoulder. "How did this happen?" He raised her wrists.

"I lost my temper and struck out at your window." She sighed.

He clucked his tongue at her. "Shame on you."

Wendy hung her head. "Will you punish me?"

He unwound the bandages and inspected the hand that was showing signs of healing. "No, my dear, I should think these fine scars will be punishment enough." He pulled on hand up and kissed the scar.

Wendy rested back against him. "Don't leave me alone again." She pleaded quietly.

"I have no intentions of leaving you to your own devices again." He admitted. His hands roamed freely over her. "However I am pleased that you welcomed me back so…warmly."

Wendy looked vacantly away. "I hate you."

"Yes?" He asked.

"Yes." She sighed. "But I'd rather be with you, than be alone, Captain."

His hand stroked her cheek. "You understand now, that I am your master and it's only my will that gives you freedom to be?"

"Yes." She sighed.

"What else do you understand?" He rested his chin on her shoulder again.

"I understand that you're a bloody bastard." She closed her eyes, not caring how he reacted.

James' eyes popped open and he turned to glare down at her, then suddenly he began to chuckle. "Truer words were never spoken." He pulled her even closer. "Oh my Darling girl," he crooned. "I've been a real bastard whilst away from your good influence."

"I'm sure." She sighed.

He stroked her like a cat. "I'm just evil though and though, Wendy Darling, my darling Wendy."

"Granny once said you were the most charming man when you wanted to be." The girl said sadly.

"Ah but she and I had but that one meal together," lamented the pirate. "Imagine how I could have charmed her had she but joined my crew."

Wendy shook her head that was a disturbing thought, Granny with this pirate. Her distinct shiver was noted by the smiling Captain.

"Ah, my poppet," He crooned as his hands move over her with authority. "You have something few other's in your family possess…honesty."

The young woman looked up at him, questioningly. "How's that?"

James studied her face, disturbingly. "You speak your mind. Tell me sweet child, how often were you spanked as a little girl?"

"Never." She said quietly.

"Your cousins received regular beatings." He mused. "Deservedly so."

Wendy's eyes narrowed. "If you know anything about my home life at all, then you're aware my father has been ill for quite some time. Since I was a child in fact….behaving wasn't a request, it was a requirement. I was never spanked because I didn't warrant one."

James viciously took her chin into his good hands. "Every child needs a spanking now and then, Miss Darling." His voice was filled with a strange rage and excitement. "I think it's something that you need to experience, and I shall be only too happy to administer to you."

Wendy blinked. "I'd prefer not."

James turned her to face him her body against his in the tub. "Persuade me to spare you."

"Go to hell, Captain Hook," she said quietly.

"When I go, I think I shall take you with for company." He growled, as his good hand held her pinned to him. "Kiss me wench." He ordered.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Smee came into the Captain's quarters as the Captain was exiting the bath. He bowed to his Captain and received his salute. The dark moody man took a seat, and Smee handed him his news paper. Wendy was tying her hair back with a dark ribbon as she exited the bath. "Miss Darling." Smee greeted her curtly.

"Mr. Smee," she returned the curtness.

"Juice Wendy," Hook ordered from behind his paper. Smee handed a full glass to the girl who took it to the Captain and held it out for him. He looked up at her and accepted the glass. He looked back at his paper, "Smee what smells so good?"

"French toast _**soufflé**_, Captain." The man set the table and stood by.

"Well, how nice," James looked at his captive. "Do you like French toast _**soufflé**_, Miss Darling?"

"I've never had it." She said honestly turning to Smee. "It does smell wonderful."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Miss." Smee smiled briefly.

James took his seat. "You may go, Miss Darling will see to me."

Smee swallowed hard, knowing the girl would gladly take off the captain's head if she could. "Yes, Captain." He gave a warning look to the girl and prayed she'd heed.

James looked at Wendy as she took her seat. "Serve." He said quietly. He watched as she cut into the _**soufflé**_ with ease and served a generous portion on his plate. She was graceful, even as hungry as she clearly was. Her hands moved with the king of refinement and polish that only a woman raised to be poised seemed to possess. A quality he found lacking in many modern women, including the two he'd bedded in the last few days away from her. "Thank you, my Darling girl." He took a fork full and savored it, "Coffee if you don't mind." He knew he was preventing her from eating, but wanted to see how far he could push her. She poured his coffee, and served it to him quietly. Then she sat in her seat with her hands in her lap. He studied her, and sighed. "Convent schooled?"

"Yes." She said quietly.

"Eat." He commanded.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wendy ate lightly, being without food for the three days he'd left her, had lessoned her ability to eat large meals. The meal was light enough that it didn't sit heavy on her shrunken tummy.

James stood before his mirror, unhappy with the way his tie came out. "Wendy, my tie," he said in exasperation.

She moved to stand in front of him and adjusted the tie and smoothed his collar. "Are you going out?"

"Business," he said softly, watching her face. He noted the grimace, and wanted to toy with her, but found instead that he sighed. "I'll be back for dinner."

Wendy looked up at him.

He reached out to stroke her cheek. "Would you like to read the news paper?" He offered.

"Yes, please."

Swiftly he handed it to her. "Smee!" He called out and the man came in from the hall. "Miss Darling is to have a light lunch, something that will not sit heavy. I shall be home for dinner. Roast lamb is to my liking." Turning to the girl he inquired. "Do you like roast lamb?"

"Yes, but we didn't have it often neither of my parent were fond of it." She admitted.

He turned to Smee. "I leave the details up to you, my good man." He looked back at the captive, he waved Smee out of the room. "Come here." His voice rasped, when she was within an arms length he reached roughly for her and pulled her into his arms. "I think I shall give that idea of spanking your sweet ass a great deal of thought this day. Pray that it does not hamper my business sense." He kissed her quickly and released her.

Wendy waited until she heard his steps on the stair and then spit into a napkin the foul taste of him. "Bloody pirate bastard." She groaned.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wendy was still reading the paper when Smee appeared with a dress box. "The Captain sent this for you, Miss. He instructs that you are to dress in this for dinner."

The box contained a soft lavender gown in sheer layers of gauze. Wendy moaned, "This is indecent!"

Smee nodded sadly. "Orders are orders." He sighed forlornly. "I'm sorry Miss."

The girl looked at the man who lived life along side the enemy of her family. "It's not your fault…it's not mine either." She pulled the dress from the box and under it was the under garments the captain expected her to wear. "He's a twisted fuck!"

"Aye, and if you don't want to find out just how twisted, ye best be dressed in this…" He raised the gauzy gown. "And ready to please him."

"Has he ever beaten a woman?" She questioned, then seeing the look on Smee's face she sighed. "You don't have to answer. I can see by your reaction he has." She headed for the bath with the box. "What ever Mass'er wants Mass'er gets."

Smee clenched his eyes closed. "Oh that girl is treading on dangerous ground."

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James sat in the limo on the ride home thinking of how well the day had gone. The phone rang and it was Phillip. The news of the merger was ready to be announced. "That's fine Phillip, I'll be in town on Monday, have your wife and daughter come to the press conference. We can celebrate at my hotel suite after. I've a gift for all three of you."

Phillips voice on the line sounded excited. "I look forward to it."

"As do I." He replaced the phone; the image of all three in leather harnesses pleased him to no end. "Hastings, have my leather man come see me in the morning."

"Yes, Captain." The driver nodded.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wendy stood at the window; the last rays of the sun were slowly disappearing. She turned when she heard James enter the room; she took a step toward him but was halted by his hand. He looked at her in the window, the last fleeting light of day showing her body though the gauzy gown.

"Charming, perfectly charming," he stated as he moved closer. "Good evening, Miss Darling."

"Captain," She gave him a curt curtsey.

"Do it proper," he ordered sharply.

Wendy lowered her eyes and dropped down low, and stayed down.

"Better." He said and snapped his fingers for her to rise. "Shall we dine?" He offered her his arm and took her to the table that Smee was already dressing.

"Did you have a good day?" She asked.

"Very good day," he flicked his napkin and placed it on his lap.

"What poor widow did you put out, or was it an orphanage you closed down?" she asked with sarcasm.

"You are lucky I enjoy your wicked tongue, wench." He sipped the wine that Smee was pouring. "This is fine." He then returned his gaze on the girl. "And did you enjoy your news paper?"

Wendy folded her arms over her chest. "I see my cousin has raised the bounty on me."

"I noticed that myself." He smiled widely. "Pity I'm filthy rich, isn't it?"

"Let me go." She said softly. "Please."

He ignored the plea and cut into the slice of roast lamb on his plate. "You must try this; it's one of Smee's specialties."

Afraid the meat would taste like sawdust she cut it into a very small piece. Slowly she ate being watched by the evil man who was her captor. "It's very good." She said.

James Hook ate with a hearty appetite. "You look lovely." He commented.

"I look like a French whore." She corrected.

James smirked and scoffed. "I have had many French whores who didn't look nearly as accommodating or tempting as you."

The girl glared at him. "I hate you."

"Good." He said continuing to eat his meal. "I hope that means you intend to put up a fight when I take my pleasure from you tonight."

"Go to hell." She shoved her plate and stepped away from the table.

James put down his napkin, and was behind her before she knew it. "Ready for sex so soon, poppet? I'd have thought you'd have wanted at least an hour or so….but if your ready now.." Wendy turned and slapped his face with as much strength as she had left. The last thing she heard was the evil snarl that emulated from the captain as the flat of his hand sent her to the floor. He stared down at the ghastly white face that was motionless beneath him. Kneeling he checked her pulse. She was only unconscious; he lifted her off the floor and laid her on the bed. He removed his clothes and then hers and waited until she began to come to. He was hard as a rock and she was dry. This was going to hurt and that pleased his malevolent mood. Her eyes opened and she gasped as she realized she was still alive and about to be yet again raped. She screamed out in pain as he slammed into her. When he was nearly finished, he leaned forward placed his teeth onto her shoulder, down into the soft flesh went his teeth until he drew blood. Wendy laid bleeding and sobbing as he left the bed. He came back with a riding crop and she fainted.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

**The boundaries of hell**

James looked at the girl who'd swooned in his bed with ferociousness. The blood on her shoulder, and the new bruises on her arms were already proof of his power over her. Her face still held the mark of his hand. He tossed the riding crop aside as he looked down at the girl. It had been nearly three weeks now since he'd taken her captive. In another five he could set her on her way. He would have a doctor come in two weeks; he wanted to be sure his child was growing in her belly. James had seen women faint before, he'd seen grown men pass out after hours of torture. He'd seen what days of hunger and deprivation could do to the body and soul of a human being. Something about the girls swoon was different; she lost all color and turned slightly blue. "You bitch!" he shrieked. "How dare you try to die," he tossed aside the riding crop. Moving to straddle her he could hear the tell tale sounds of something lodged in the narrow passage of the long and slender throat. "Damnation," he muttered as he pulled her upright, placing his hands to her abdomen and performing the abdominal thrusts to lift the diaphragm and force enough air from the lungs to create an artificial cough. The cough was intended to move and expel the obstructing foreign body in her airway. Each thrust given with the intent of removing the obstruction. After the fifth thrust her eyes popped open and the object, a half chewed piece of lamb flew free from her gapping mouth. Her eyes swam in tears, and she coughed and gasped at the air she was fighting to breath. Her eyes fluttered, and he moved closer, knowing she was coming to.

"Slowly," his voice barked. "Breathe slower." Now hyperventilating, and in a panic the girl grabbed his arm to steady herself. Her eyes moved to his, begging him to help her. "Wendy," he softened his tone. "You're going to have to calm down and breath slowly, or you will surely faint again." He embraced her, holding her to him in an unplanned act of kindness. "Calm yourself."

Having been so close to death moments ago, she sobbed; "I don't want to die." 

James realized she'd just handed him a powerful weapon to use against her. He understood what the fear of death could do to ordinary humans, and he had used this weapon of fear before. Looking down at her, seeing the color slowly coming back to her face, her tear stained cheeks and her clinging to him; he supposed it would do no harm to belay the use of this powerful weapon. Moments ago he had been ready to beat her senseless, yet now he was caressing her comfortingly. Her tears had spilled on his chest and she was still sobbing against his pectoral muscles. "Miss Darling," His voice snapped like a whip, and she looked at him. "I will not tolerate insolence!"

"You…save… me," she said in a voice that was laced with disbelieve. "Why?"

James blinked, damned if he knew, he thought to himself. She was more trouble than her snobbish cousin, or even her own great granny. He looked down and gently brushed her hair from her face. He had wanted to suddenly say some thing kind and gentle; that rankled him. He feared he was going soft, and instead pursed his lips and whispered in a threatening manner. "Corpses don't deliver babies." The next instant he straddled her and pinned her down to the bed. "Where were we?"

Wendy sobbed, it was a dry rasping sound and she felt her whole body shudder. "Why don't you just kill me?"

James moved closer, stared down at her and snarled. "Death is not to be yours, poppet. Not for a long time to come."

Wendy's hand went to her bruised face, "I hate you, Captain Hook. And I will until the day I die!"

Her anger and her hate fed the fires that burned in him like a raging inferno. 'This is the child of your enemy,' he told himself. 'This is the reason you've waited so long.' He now lowered himself, spreading her unwilling and weak legs with ease. "Hate me Wendy," he said as his lips burned like coal over her tender skin. "Hate me," his hands moved over her as her helpless body responded to his every touch. The girl beneath him surrendered her body to him, knowing she was too weak to fight, and too fearful of death. 

It should have been a triumph, and he should have been rejoicing. He should have gloated and lord it over her. Miserable and lost she looked up at him with vacant eyes, and his response surprised him perhaps more than it did her. He tipped her face upward and kissed. Not the forceful, open mouthed kisses he'd been forcing on her. Not kisses that were bathed in rage, but a gentle kiss. His hands moved over her body with skillfulness and dexterity drawing a response she had been denying him. He was beginning his thrusts, his eyes met hers. He lifted one wilting arm, kissed her wrist then placed it to his shoulder. Wendy watched him like a wounded bird as he lifted the other wrist, kissing it as well before placing it to his other shoulder. He shifted, pushing his hips deeper to hers. Lowering himself he now placed his right hand to her hip, silently directing her to wrap her legs about him and give him even more movement. Silently she complied as his thrusts became longer and more powerful. 

"Your body betrays you, my Darling girl," he murmured in her ear. "Your heart may hate me, but your body does not."

Wendy closed her eyes, 'It's not me, it's not me, it's not me.' She thought swiftly. 

However he seemed to know her thoughts and he growled in her ear. "Never have I had anything as hot as you." Wendy arched, her body had a mind of its own, and she was now a prisoner to it more than to James. He buried his face in the wild mane of hair, and was glad she could not see just how deeply she'd affected him. He held her closer as he gave vent to the heat that had built up in his loins. Moments later he spilled into her with such force he was afraid that he'd begun to bleed out.

She mewled beneath him, a sound he'd never hoped to hear come from her. Turning to look at her, he sought quickly to put her in her places. "That was very good…slave." He rolled off her, dangled his legs off the side of the bed and light up a cigar quickly. "Shall I ring for desert?"Wendy rolled the other direction and softly cried until sleep over came her.

He could hear the sounds of sleep and her soft breathing. Carefully he left the bed and began to pace. This was not going according to his plan; he was not supposed to develop feelings for her… She lay still and he walked to the other side of the bed to assure himself she was still breathing. He suddenly realized how worried he had become during the choking, and chided himself for developing a weakness. She sighed in her sleep and he was reminded of another girl, and the weakness he'd felt for her. 'This is the child of your enemy,' he told himself again. 'She would destroy you with out a second thought.'

Snubbing out the cigar, he lay on his side of the bed, watching her as if she were a man-eating cat, and he her prey not the other way around. Had she not choked, he'd have given her the whipping of her life. "You really do need to be spanked," he said aloud quietly. "However that will have to wait…" Placing a possessive hand over her little oval belly he thought of the child he had placed within her and the sweet torture having his brat would cause her. With that thought he joined her in slumber.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Wendy awoke to the sounds of ice pelting the window; she turned to find the Captain sleeping soundly with his arm over her. In sleep he looked like an ordinary man, with extraordinarily handsome features, but just a man… not the monster who'd haunted her dreams as a child. Not the murderous fiend, who'd kidnapped, raped and tortured her. Her weeks of captivity had taught her one thing, he was capable of anything. He could be cruel on moment and tender the next, and he could save her life. Yet in sleep he looked like just a man… handsome, mature and dashing… the kind of man girls dreamed of coming to sweep them off their feet and whisk them way to some hidden place…and make their dreams come true. His long thick black hair was fallen across his face, falling in deep waves. A double thick line of lashes covered the ends of his deep set eyes. His face was chiseled, and his skin unblemished, and his bone structure was extraordinary. Deep wide lids covered the periwinkle blue eyes that could make one forget time and space. Blue as forget-me-nots, blue as a peaceful lagoon on a distant shore, her great granny had told her. 

Some little flutter within her shocked her, and Wendy sat bolt upright with a startled sound coming like a strangle in her throat. The movement was enough to awaken the man who looked at the gasping girl with worried eyes. Was she about to swoon again, he watched her movement ready to act if he had to. One hand went to her abdominal and her face held a knowing look. "I'm pregnant." She said aloud, not to him, not to her, just aloud. She knew it was true, even without a doctor or a test.

"Of course you are," he boasted confidently. 

She looked at him, eyes begging. "Let me go, Captain…"

He leaned back into the pillows, placing a hand over hers on her belly. "Even if I let you go, you will be tied to me for all time." His fingers flexed over her abdomen possessively. "If and when I let you go, it will be when I am sure… In two weeks a doctor I … deal with will be here to assess your…condition, only then will I allow you to have your oh so precious freedom. When it is too late to sweep this from your life."

"Its already too late," she looked at the hand covering hers. "I'm…pregnant…" tears fell freely. "If you know me, than you know I could never sweet this… away."

"Right now my child grows within you, and you are only just becoming aware of him," James crooned looking at her smugly. "But only once you feel life… feel it move, feel it feeding off what your body takes in… than and only than will I be sure you won't fall prey to your cousin John's demands that you abort the child." His hand stayed over hers. "Until then…" a cruel gleam entered his eyes. "We still have your lessons." The hand migrated up her arm, gripped her above the elbow and pulled her to him. "It is early still, and there is a cold icy storm out there, come Wendy… warm me." The girl stifled the sob that was in her throat, her body was already being pinned once more to the bed. 

Hours later, when he'd satisfied himself, he sat in the warm waters of the bath with the girl. He applied a sponge to the little bruises that were appearing from where his touch had been too firm for her tender skin. He made her sit and accept his ministrations of sponging her down. "I am so very pleased," he purred in a tone that could only be described as egotistical and overconfident. "Perhaps when I return from London this weekend I'll have a gift for you…would you like that, my dear?"

Wendy turned slightly. "London?"

"Many of my business concerns are in London," he informed her without worry. 

Turning away, looking straight ahead, the girl prayed that none of his concerns dealt with any member of the Darling Clan. His hand had abandoned the sponge and was now gently massaging her breast. She hated that he knew only too well how to make a woman's body react and need him. Pulling her back against him, he bent toward the long neck, and placed his lips to the pulsating vein just under her skin. She gave a startled gasp and he chuckled softly as he began to let his lips wander up and down her throat. Wendy hated feeling helpless, she even more hated that he could cause her to whimper like a lost kitten. 

James chuckled, and moved to rest his back again against the back of the tub. He skimmed the skin of her very lovely back with crooked fingers. He'd had women, experienced women, yet just sitting in a tub of warm water with the Darling girl was far more satisfying an experience than he'd ever hoped to find. "Your skin is as smooth as silk, soft as rose petals, and as delightful a vision as a Botticelli painting." Wendy looked over her shoulder ever so slightly, making no comment of her own and keeping her lips firmly clamped together. James raised his crooked fingers to her cheek and jaw line. "I almost regret having to give you back."

"This is madness," she whispered. "Let me go now, please."

Moving forward, he placed his cheek to hers. "No." His hand moved again to her breast. "Ask again, and perhaps I'll extend you little visit," he threatened softly.

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

Wrapped in her bath towel and looking like a whipped kitten, the girl sat on the bed obediently fastening the cuffs once more to her wrists. In the time she'd been wearing them she had become fairly adept at removing and replacing them. The ankle cuffs were already in place when she began with the wrist pair, and she ignored the fact that while James dressed he watched her like a hawk. She knew there was no escaping his watchful gaze and also that he would know if she had not fastened the cuffs properly. She'd tried that trick once and been punished for it already. She would do what ever it took to avoid punishment at his hands. 

James picked up her collar, tossed it to her. "Don't forget this." He teased as he watched her place the collar on and fastened the leather to her throat. He stood over her, having interrupted his own dressing; his shirt was still not entirely buttoned. His breathing was deepening, and he found himself aroused by the girl draped in the long thick white bath towel. "Botticelli would envy me right now, Wendy," he muttered looking at her. "Loosen the towel, and lean back on your elbows, invitingly."

She would have loved to have told him to go to hell once more, would have loved to have spit in his eye. However now she had more important and pressing needs, at all costs she had to protect the child that was already growing within her. Her hand un-tucked the corner of the towel, it slipped down to her waist. Leaning back on her elbows she looked at him with yielding eyes and licked her lips to moisten them.

James groaned, as he descended to his knees, his good hand moving the towel so he could look at her…all of her. "You are most assuredly a work of art, my dear… you may not be what the fools of this day describe as beautiful, but you are most definitely a handsome woman. One that will only increase in beauty as you age, unlike one like your cousin Lizzie… she will need cosmetics and perhaps even surgery to keep her pretty looks, while you… you will out shine them all…." 

"Pretty words," Wendy remarked coolly. 

He read a challenge in her beautiful eyes, unadorned and without benefit of makeup, and still they were the most beautiful thing he'd ever known. "Wendy," he placed a hand to either side of her legs that were still draped, hanging off the bed. "In a battle of wills, I will win… I'm older and stronger than you… I've survived Peter Pan."

Raising one brow with a cocky expression on her face the girl responded unperturbedly. "I always felt that it was more a case of you two just waltzing about each other… it was only after my great granny that you began to make mistakes…now why would that be Captain?"

James heard the chortle rise in his throat, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Believe me my dear, had the original Wendy been just a year older, I'd have swept her off her feet and Pan would never have won her first kiss." He smiled confidently. "That kiss and all her others would have been mine for the taking.

"Overconfident," Wendy breathed composedly.

"If I didn't have business meetings to see to," he warned gently. "I'd show you just how… confident I can be." He rose from his kneeling position and continued to button his shirt as he looked at the naked girl lounging lazily on the bed. "However business can not wait." A frantic tapping at the door alerted him that something unplanned was taking place. "Enter," he commanded. 

Smee rushed in and came to his side hurriedly, whispered something in the Captain's ear. James looked perturbed, and reaching down grabbed hold of the girl who had demurely raised the towel to cover her nakedness from the sight of the servant who looked very upset. "Come Wendy," he said brusquely. He pulled her off the bed, making no effort to retrieve her towel when it was lost as he shoved her toward the dressing room. "We have uninvited guests," he informed her as he pulled a leaver that released a hidden lock. What had looked like a wall, opened on a hidden hinge, and James shoved the girl roughly into the hidden room. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to be good enough to stay out of sight." He took hold of a clip, fastened it to the rings on her cuff and hoisted her up to dangle from a hook that was fastened to the ceiling. He clipped her feet and before she could think to protest he'd shoved a ball gag into her open mouth. James made sure she was facing a wall that had a monitor screen, and he switched the monitor on. "So you don't miss a moment of the fun," he crooned in her ear before giving her fanny a swat, and exiting. 

Wendy snapped out of whatever trance she had seemed to be in, and began to struggle as she dangled. The monitor showed three uniformed police officers and a plain clothed Detective standing in the foyer of the house. The girl moaned and screamed into the gag.

James returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed he'd just yanked the girl off, calmly he buttoned his shirt humming that same old song he'd hummed time and again maddeningly. He looked up with interest as Smee escorted the Detective into the room "Ah, now what is this about?"

The Detective looked at the man with the mechanical hand. "Captain Rodgers?"

"Retired," James said in an amiable tone. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sure you've heard that one of the Darling's went missing a few weeks back," the man stated sounding as if he were being bothered about nothing.

James nodded looking concerned. "Terrible bit of news that… and upon the heals of that family's celebration of the great Author…." He took a seat and looked at the officer softly. "Yes, what of it?"

"We're doing a house to house search now, on the insistent of the family." The Detective looked uncomfortable.

James pursed his lips into a long thin line. "Of course," he motioned the man to look about. "Be my guest." Every last sign of Wendy had been removed; the lavender dress was on the floor in the room where the girl hung watching helplessly the monitor. James was confidant they would find nothing he didn't want them to find. "I'm sure if I had lost a family member I too would insist on a search."

Wendy in the hidden room screamed into the gag, but deep down knew the room was most likely sound proof. Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched the man seated on the bed look self-assured and poised while the officers searched his house. She heard the Detective apologize for inconveniencing the man just before they were escorted from the house by Smee.

James walked to the window, watched the official car exit his property before moving to the hidden panel of the dressing room. Leaning on the arched entry he watched Wendy dangle or a moment. "So damned tempting," he murmured before entering the room and unfastening his slacks to allow them to drop to his ankles as he positioned himself behind the dangling bound girl. "Lesson four," he growled as he yanked her head back. "Be ready whenever your master desires you." His hand released her hair to travel up between her legs and fondle her to arousal. Moisture gathered as she shivered in anticipation. With his hand he guided his now fully extended shaft between her legs to find the clef and the moist opening. Threateningly he moved the mechanical hand down her side. "I'll have to try this with the hook," he promised darkly.

Wendy moaned not wanting to, but unable to stop the response her body granted him.

He had places to go, and people to meet, but right now the only thing that mattered to him was the girl dangling so deliciously from the hook. He thrust deeper and deeper, grunting and growling. Once he'd relived the urge, and spilled hot and thick into her welcoming womb, he slapped the side of her fanny with his good hand. "Good girl," he commented as if praising a prize horse on a good canter. He pulled out of her and watched as the goo ran down her legs, and tears stained her cheeks. "Very good, girl," his hand patted her ass domineeringly demonstrating his complete control of her situation. "Now," he reached up and removed the clip from the hook; "We shall have to bath all over again." He reached down and pulled his slacks up before placing her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat, he began to sing the song he hummed relentlessly. "_**What do you do with a drunken sailor,  
What do you do with a drunken sailor,  
What do you do with a drunken sailor,  
Earl-eye in the morning!**_"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13.**

**Parting such sweet sorrow**

Two more weeks of sexual torture passed after the visit of the constables and the Detective. Wendy thought that she must have suffered every sexual degradation, only to find that the Captain had more imagination than he'd ever been credited with in any damn novel or description of his character. His ego was only diminished by his prowess; he seemingly had no limit to his vigor. It had been six weeks since he'd taken the girl captive, and true to his threats he had a doctor come to examine the girl.

The doctor was an older man, one who apparently had enjoyed a very full life thanks to the Captain's generously. Upon the orders of the Captain the doctor examined the girl, and was very thorough. He ignored the obvious bruises and scars that her wrists had now. He ignored the fact that she was wearing a heavy leather collar and cuffs altogether. His touch was the most impersonal touched she'd ever suffered. It was as if he were handling a vase or a statue, not a young woman. When he'd finished he turned to the Captain who'd stood by watching the examination. "As you suspected, she's with child." The Doctor confirmed. 

Wendy pulled the sheet across herself, not enjoying having to be present at all.

James smiled gloatingly at her. "I told you," he said in a pleased tone. "Six weeks along, right?"

"Yes, very much so." The man with the stethoscope hanging from his neck agreed. "She will need a prescription of vitamins, and should of course see an obstetrician as soon as possible."

"I'm afraid a visit to such a doctor will have to wait until her release." Hook said callously. "Thank you, and good bye Doctor." He motioned the man to leave before dropping onto the bed along side the girl; "Hello, mommy."

"I hate you," she said with loathing. 

Leaning toward her belly, he spoke to the tiny bump. "Don't listen to Mommy; she cares very deeply for Daddy..." He placed his hand on the girl's abdomen gently.

"You are such a liar," She lay back in the pillows clutching the sheet. "When will you release me?"

"In due time," he murmured moving his face to where his hand rested. "Surely you and I can rejoice in the doctor's announcement for a few days."

"You don't really expect me to rejoice do you?" she asked looking at the long tangles of dark hair that rested on her. 

"Of course I do," he said not bothering to look at her. "WE, you and I my dear Wendy are going to be parents…."

"You raped me, and this child is a product of your revenge nothing more." She lamented. "I pity the poor creature."

James turned and crawled up the bed to come face to face with his victim. "In time, your pity will turn to protectiveness, and perhaps even to love…. Such is the way of the Darling women."

Something unsaid struck a cord of fear in the girl. "What are you planning now?"

"In time, my dear Wendy… in time." He lowered his lips to hers. "Kiss me wench, and thank me for the gift of my child in your lions."

Knowing punishment would come upon refusal, even in her delicate state, she tipped her face to give him the kiss he desired. "Thank you so much," she murmured into his mouth.

Satisfied with his power over her, he rose from the bed. "When I return this evening we will have a nice dinner in the dinning room." He moved toward the door, picking up his suit jacket and top coat as he moved. "Have a good day, my dear." 

Wendy watched him go, feeling cold and alone, and defensive. She'd lost track of the days, and had no idea of what the date was. She only knew she had to start pulling herself together and make plans of her own to thwart the good captain. He had locked the medicine cabinet, and she found he had removed anything he deemed dangerous from the bath. However more on her mind was a good washing and getting rid of the jelly that the doctor had used during her examination. What Wendy desired more than anything at the moment was to feel clean.

She filled the tub and entered it, allowing the warm swirling waters to ease away the feeling of the doctor's hands upon her and within her. She could afford to ignore the fact that she was using the very tub that Captain Hook had used to molest in over and over. She had but a few short hours to begin making her plans before he would arrive home again and demand her attention. Bathing gave her the privacy and quiet such thoughts needed. It was clear he was planning on keeping her hostage until she felt life move within her, or at least until he could have it detected with an ultrasound. Not that she needed one to convince her that life was growing within her womb, but he being a man would want the quote, unquote, proof. Something he'd said when the doctor had left…he'd said; '_**In time, your pity will turn to protectiveness, and perhaps even to love…. Such is the way of the Darling women.**_' That troubled her, 'think like a pirate,' she'd told herself. Rising her knees to rest her chin, and holding her legs with her hands she contemplated the myriad of scenarios. Always coming to the same conclusion, he was going to abduct her child and raise it to be a pirate, and perhaps use the child against Pan. Much as she didn't like Peter Pan, and had never really cared for the boy who never grew up, she didn't want his death to be on her child. She was going to have to thwart the very intelligence of the man who was father to her child.

Wendy knew James was correct in his assessment of John Darling. He would, given half a chance, demand that she sweep the tiny life force from her body. What James didn't know was that Wendy could never do what John expected of her. She'd been raised a bit too old fashioned, and religious for that. No, there would be no abortion, she placed a hand gently on her tummy under the water and made a silent vow to the little life growing deep within her. She would protect the child from friend and foe alike. Her hand patted the tiny bump that was forming, so small most would not notice it. But Wendy, knowing every inch of her body, knew the instant it started to increase. She leaned back on the back of the tub, resting her head and thinking. She knew what she had to do, but how to do it…

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**

The young lady was seated at her vanity, combing her long honey colored hair, when Smee entered with another of the many boxes that James had ordered brought in from time to time. "Your garments for this evening, Miss Darling." He said keeping his voice impassive.

"Thank you, Smee." She said just as impassive, for she had no desire to be pitied by him any more than he wished to pity her. "You may leave it."

"Yes, miss, dinner will be served at eight, the master said you should be ready for him." he dropped the box on the bed and exited the room. As he did he looked over his shoulder, knowing the little minx was up to something.

Once the man had closed the door, Wendy moved to inspect the contents of the box on the bed. The chemise was much like the one before, full skirted and made of expensive Dutch linen. The dress was perfectly charming, and if it had been given to her by anyone else… It too was of Dutch linen and in shades of forget-me-not blue and white. There was also a blue silk shawl for her to use, and a fan. He had thought of everything to complete the look he desired of her, from shoes to hair combs. Wendy knew he expected compliance, and decided it behooved her to go along with his little masquerade. 

It was nearly eight, when Wendy finished dressing her hair in the style of the time period that the gown originated from. She used a sparing amount of the perfume he'd given her, and used only lip gloss and a little blush with her eyeliner. She looked as if she'd stepped out of the pages of a Victorian novel.

At eight, Smee came to the door and coughed lightly into his hand. "The master requests your presence down stairs, miss." He said with a bit of a cocky attitude. 

Wendy hid any surprise she felt at being invited down to the main floor of this house. James was confident now that he'd impregnated her, and he was bound to be more generous in his treatment of her. She moved down the stairs in the long gown as if she'd been born to that period. At the foot of the stairs stood Captain James Hook, in the very same deep blue uniform he'd worn the night of the centennial celebration. Waiting until she had her feet on the main floor, not taking a chance of her falling and injuring the baby, he extended his hooked right hand to her. Without hesitation or revulsion she placed her hand over the hook and watched passively as he bowed and kissed her fingers. 

"How attentive of you to be ready on time, my dear," he complemented her softly.

"I know your… aversion and abhorrence of tardiness, Captain." She replied as he tucked her hand into his arm to escort her into the fancy parlor of his home. Wendy then noticed the fully decorated Christmas tree; she looked at him with uneasiness. "What is today?" she asked not really wanting to hear the answer. 

"Christmas eve," he said lightly. "May I be the first to wish you a very Merry Christmas Miss Darling?" Removing her hand from his arm she moved forward to look with sad eyes at the tree. "You seem upset," he observed. 

"My father is dying… may be dead already… I had hoped to spend this Christmas with him as it may well be his last." She said honestly, before turning to him. "Is he…still alive?"

He could be cruel, he told himself; he could withhold information, or give her falsehoods, however seeing her become so despondent he resorted to using the truth. "As far as I'm aware, your father is still among the living."

Some of the pain left her eyes, "I thank you for that," she said quietly with a dignity missing most of the young ladies of her generation. 

"No," he said tipping her face upward with the rounded edge of his hook. "I demand proper payment for the information supplied."

Looking at him, and knowing his meaning she swallowed her pride. 'This is for my baby,' she reminded herself. Rising up on tip toe she placed her lips on his, soft as a rose petal. "Thank you, Captain." She said as she pulled away.

James sighed deeply, "I've a gift for you, my dear."

"I thought the gown was my gift," she murmured demurely.

"Hardly," he said letting his eyes drink her appearance in. "That was strictly for me, no… this is for you." He moved to the decorated tree, reached into a branch and pulled out a festooned box. "Do open it," he said as he placed it in her hands.

Wendy knew it was a jeweler's box, even before she removed the wrappings. She'd seen her share of them being presented to her mother by her father over the years. "Captain, you shouldn't have." She said in what she hoped was a pleasant tone.

"Do open it," his voice this time was not suggesting, it was commanding.

Wendy nodded, and deftly opened the wrapping paper and ribbons, then the velvet box within. Looking up at him, and reading his mood, she carefully opened the lid of the case. On a bed of silver satin sat a choker styled collar of silver beads and luminous sapphires, seeing it she gasped. 

James lifted the expensive work of craftsmanship, and draped it on her neck and easily attached it before allowing it to cascade over her throat and down over her low scooped neckline. "Charming," he muttered.

"Captain," she said placing a hand delicately to her throat, "I can't accept this; it's far too costly…"

"Nonsense," he pulled her hand away. "I can easily afford these and many more."

"That's not the point," she pulled away from him. "It is a matter of what is and is not appropriate! This is the kind of gift a man gives his wife or… wife to be… not a…prisoner." Even as she'd said the word, she knew it was a mistake.

James narrowed his vision, looking down his long elegant nose at her. "You may be right, however it pleases me to give you these gems… and you will keep them." Crooking his fingers on his left hand he tipped up her chin. "I shall wish to you have them on later…" he knew she would understand his meaning.

"I see," she looked at him with abhorrence, "Just something else to whore me up with."

"Damnation woman," he chuckled darkly. "I do like your fire." He moved away without reacting beyond that. He moved to the handsomely carved harpsichord, took a seat and began to play. 

Wendy was not surprised at how well he played; great granny had said he was most accomplished. She moved toward the instrument, and watched his fingers move over the keys with dexterity and skill. She didn't recognize the melody. "I'm not familiar with this tune." She said quietly.

"No reason you should be," he said gently. "It's called Neverland Winter, and I composed it." 

"Oh," she placed her hand on the carved case of the harpsichord. "I had no idea you composed as well as played."

"How negligent of your great granny not to have included that bit of information," he continued the haunting melody. Watching how the music affected her, and thinking of the other Wendy. "I played for her once, you know."

"Yes, I know." Her voice drifted on the soft notes coming from the harpsichord. "However she didn't mention if it were an original composisition…"

James looked wistfully at the keyboard, "I see… it was. I only play original compositions." 

Smee entered the room and coughed discreetly into his hand. "Dinner is served, sir."

James finished, rose and extended his arm to Wendy. "Let us enjoy this meal." He escorted her into the exquisitely appointed dinning room. "Smee worked very hard on it for your pleasure."

"Indeed?" She tried like hell to keep it from sounding mocking. "And what did Mr. Smee create for our dinner this evening?"

"Ah you'll see," his voice was pleasant as he seated her, and then taking his seat rang for the meal to be brought in. He watched her face as Smee rolled a cart in.

Smee bowed and announced. "Tonight's dinner is a traditional Pheasant Marsala, so delicious you'll want to try it no matter what. Your first course is Brandy Onion Soup, a great starter to this meal, and Herb Barley Pilaf and Roasted Acorn Squash Wedges complete it. And for dessert there will be an English trifle." He began to ladle the soup for the Captain and then for Wendy. "Bon appetite, as they say…" he chuckled and padded off softly to allow the pair to enjoy the meal.

Wendy watched the Captain dip his spoon into the soup and followed his movement. Taking a light taste, she had to admit it was delightful while completely different from anything she'd ever had before. 

James looked at her with interest. "You seem surprised, I would have thought coming from a proper family this would be … familiar."

"I grew up in America," she reminded him. "Pheasant and Brandy Onion soup were not what I grew up with."

The pirate regarded her with mild interest. "And what would have been your Dinner on Christmas Eve?"

"Oyster stew, and filet of fish," she answered quietly. "The fowl would be served on Christmas Day, turkey usually… although we did have goose one year."

"Really?" James murmured. "Seafood on the Eve…fowls on the Day. I'll remember that." When they'd finished the soup James served them both from the platter of sliced pheasant and its condiments. He noticed she was eating, but not very heartily. "Is something not to your liking?"

"Oh no," she assured him. "I just find … I'm…feeling a bit…delicate."

James smiled, "Ah."

Wendy wondered if she could pitch a tantrum and get away with it. Looking over at the pirate captain, she choose not to.

When the dinner was cleared away, as well as the dessert, James escorted the girl back to the formal parlor, where a fire now danced merrily in the hearth. The lights were dimmed and the main light in the room was the beautiful tree. Smee was placing a wine decanter and two glasses, turned on the stereo, and giving the captain a curt nod exited. James poured wine and handed a glass with a smaller amount than what was in his glass to the girl. "I don't think it will harm the child if you have a prudent amount." He said as he extended the crystal goblet to the girl.

"I suppose not," she accepted the drink, wanting to numb her senses.

"A toast," he said pleasantly, when she looked at him he lifted the glass in his hand and said. "To fortune." 

"Fortune?" She asked, but he gave no other answer. Lifting the glass to her lips she sipped the spirits.

James removed the glass from her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Dance with me," he commanded as he placed the hook to the small of her back. "I want to feel you move in my arms, Miss Darling."

"Of course," she answered demurely, looking down.

"Look at me, Wendy." He growled. "Look at me." Her head came up, and her eyes met his. He took well telegraphed steps, and proved a masterful lead. The girl in his arms looked at him with an expression that was a mixture of something akin to awe, and trepidation. Had things been different, had the original Wendy not turned him down…. He wondered what it would have been like, would he have been able to keep her favor? Would she have given herself willingly to him? Would she have missed…Pan? His thoughts plagued him and his grip on the girl in his arms tightened. 

"Captian…you're hurting me." Wendy gasped as the air began to be crushed out of her. "Captain…. James…stop!"

Her use of his name shocked him back into the present. "What did you say?"

Her breath was labored and she heard her own voice sob. "James…"

Cupping her face in his hand he stared at her, for a moment he could not remember where he was or with whom. The firelight gleaming in the heart of the gems at her throat reminded him, and he swept her up into his arms. She struggled for breath, and clung to him as he moved toward the stairs, a faint cry came from her lips. "Silence." He ordered coldly as his long legs made short work of stairs and hall alike. He lowered her only when they were in the bedchamber. He kicked the door closed and it slammed with a loud thud. Wendy looked at him, her breasts falling and rising in the deep breaths she was taking. James pulled one of the chairs forward, took a seat and let his eyes rake over her. She shivered with his gaze, and he sneered. "Take off the gown, slowly."

Reaching behind her, she unfastened the linen gown, and let it fall to her feet. She now stood before him in only the under slip and the jeweled choker.

Shrugging himself out of the blue captain's coat, he let his lips curl. "Take off the slip…you don't need it."

Glad, and relieved he had not sliced her out of it, she removed the slip as well. "Yes, Captain." 

James looked at her standing before him now in only a corset, and panties and the heels he'd picked out. He stood up, "Come here." She moved toward him slowly. He placed his good hand into her hair, and tugged her head back so her face was uplifted. "Wendy." He placed his lips on hers and then bit her lower lip until it bleed and she cried out. He laughed cruelly before letting go of the girls lip. His hand was still holding her hair, "You will give me now your present." 

"I don't have one," she protested. 

"You know what I want," he said with dark knowledge. "Give me my present, wench."

Placing one hand to his chest, the girl moaned softly. "Take me…James." 

He paused; he had not expected her to use his name a second time this evening. The grip in her hair eased, as he moved his lips to hers, not for a moment believing she would willingly kiss him. He stared at her as she moved her lips softly over his offered lips. Hunger, need, longing and yearning overpowered the years of dark planning. James lifted her against him before carrying her to his bed. 

Hours later, he lay asleep beside her, she watched him, and vowed she'd never let him hurt her or the baby.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter14.**

**Wendy's rescuer**

James had not slept so soundly in years, his body curled about that of the girl domineeringly. He had been surprised by how accommodating and willing the girl had been. Her soft kisses and acceptance of his mastery had moved him to be far gentler with her than he'd planned, even in her delicate condition. Her tender and even enthusiastic responses had given him more contentment and gratification, beyond the delight and enjoyment of plundering her yet again would have. He had pulled her into his embrace after he'd gone limp within her, long after he'd spilled more seed. He enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms, and sleep came peacefully.

He awoke before the sunrise, to emptiness, and sat up looking about the dim room. "Wendy?" he said then repeated it louder. "Wendy?" He listened and could hear nothing, now he roared. "Wendy!"

"I'm here," her voice was hoarse and sounded like it was coming from an echo chamber.

James left the bed, oblivious to his nakedness and searched for her. Finding her on the floor of the bath, hugging the commode; "What's the matter with you?" He knelt at her side; and even in the dim light could observe how pale she'd turned. "Are you ill?"

"Its morning sickness," she said before losing the remainder of the contents of her stomach.

"Surely not," he said setting back on his haunches. "It would be too soon…"

Wendy placed her face on the rim of the commode. "What the hell do you know about it? My mother use to say she was sick from almost the day of conception." She moaned and tried to breath. "I feel like I'm dying," she whimpered.

"Are you sure it is not something you ate at dinner?" He asked.

Wendy turned her face, still keeping it resting on the rim, and looked at him. "You ate the same thing I did, are you retching?"

"No," he admitted.

"There ya go," she said and again retched.

Leaving her for a moment he returned with a cup of water for her to rinse her mouth. "You're sure it's only morning sickness?"

"Only?" She rinsed and spit, and handed him the cup. "Go away, James."

Snorting lightly at her use of his name, he placed the cup on the back of the commode. "How long do these bouts go on?"

"I don't know, I've never been pregnant before," she groused, moaning she leaned over the commode once more. "Oh do go away, James."

He nodded and returned to the bed, where he sat upon the edge listening to her retch. Never in his life had he heard such a sound. It was nearly dawn when she exited the bath room looking worn out and collapsed on the bed. He pulled the blanket up over her and lay besides her watching as she fell back into slumber. She was frail and pale, with dark circles ringing her eyes. He curled his arm over he waist and rested beside her.

An hour later James rose from the bed and gently picked her up to carry her into the bath. "Just sit still and rest," he crooned. "Let me be your lady's maid for now." Wendy, too tired, too weary and too weak, nodded. He stepped into the tub, and once more settled her in the warm waters, resting her head on his chest. "See, nice and easy," he crooned.

"Don't talk," she begged. "My head is pounding." James picked up the sea sponge and began to wash her gently. Meeting with no resistance, he looked at her, not liking her pallor. He stayed quiet, and bathed her.

James put Wendy back to bed before he called for Smee; who came racing up to the master's chamber. "Do you know anything about morning sickness?" Hook asked his _bo'sun, _turned manservant.

Smee's face went blank, turning nearly as pale as the girl moaning from the bed. "Why are you asking me? I've never even been married…" He heard the moans and looked from his Captain to the girl. "Well this is something you had not planned on, isn't it?"

Hook snorted, "I had to change the original plan, if you recall."

"Well this is what comes of riding the hobby horse." Smee said unkindly, but kept his voice down. "What you intend to do now?"

James paced tapping his chin with his good hand, "I guess we have to ask our friend Doctor to make a return visit…surely there's some kind of medication he can give her to…." He watched as the girl ran toward the bath once more. "Good lord, there can't be anything left inside her…" He motioned the man to call the doctor as he went to check on the ailing girl.

Hours later when he arrived, the Doctor didn't look very pleased about being brought back. He frowned at Smee when the door was opened for him to enter. He huffed under his breath something about not being on a tether line, and how dare they interrupt his life. Once he entered the bedchamber, and began to examine the girl, his demeanor changed. He drew the Captian aside and spoke urgently to him. "She needs a hospital."

"For morning sickness," scoffed the Captain.

Looking toward the pale girl, the doctor shook his head: "This is not just morning sickness… the girl is suffering from Hyperemesis gravidarum. A condition characterized by severe nausea, vomiting, weight loss, and electrolyte disturbance. Mild cases are treated with dietary changes, rest and antacids. More severe cases often require a stay in the hospital so that the mother can receive fluid and nutrition through an intravenous line. That girl is dehydrated, and she needs the kind of care she can only receive in a hospital." When the captain made to protest the old doctor leaned forward. "I'm not an obstetrician, and that is what she needs right now… someone who is well versed in that field of study. She needs a hospital."

James looked at the Doctor, pulled himself up straight, and dismissed the man. "Thank you for coming, you may go."

"I won't be held responsible," warned the doctor. "I've given you my suggestion, what you do now is on your head." Both men watched as the girl raced from the bed to the bathroom once more. The doctor moved faster than the captain, and was in the bath observing her. He turned to the captain. "She needs a hospital." He said as he gathered the girl who fainted away after retching again.

"Yes," James agreed. "I have to let her go….."

The doctor had discreetly arranged for an ambulance to carry the girl to a London hospital. James looked at her, pale and frail and wondered if she'd survive to carry the baby to term. He watched the ambulance as it left his drive, knowing it would be a long time before he'd be able to see the young woman again. He turned to Smee with a dark twinkle in his forget-me-not blue eyes. "Alert our people on staff that Wendy Darling is being admitted to Saint George's as a Jane Doe…once they realize who she is the place will be swarming with officers, and our people will have to mind their p's and q's."

Smee nodded.

The driver of the ambulance was not aware of whom his rider was. All he knew was he was transferring an ill woman from her home to an ambulance that was coming to meet them half way. The transfer took place, and the bundled Wendy was moved from one ambulance to the other without anyone recognizing her. When the driver and his assistant pulled her gurney out of the ambulance and rolled it into the emergency room they were still not aware of whom their patient was.

The nurse in charge of the emergency room glared at the driver; "What are you doing?"

"We were told to bring this patient here," he handed her his order sheet.

Frustrated and overworked, the woman looked at the sheet. "There's no Doctor Malikey on staff here." She looked at the sheet again, and was on the verge of turning them away when Wendy moaned. Remembering _**The **__**Nightingale Pledge**_, she'd taken oh so long ago; she moved to look at the invalid and gasped. "Oh my god…its Wendy Darling." She alerted the administrator of the hospital, and then called for the police. Orderlies meanwhile pushed the gurney into the examining room and a physician was called in to examine her.

The nurse was wringing her hands when the officers arrived to question her, and the ambulance driver. The drive gave him the sketchy information he had, as did the nurse. John, Peter and Phillip Darling arrived an hour later having been given a call by the officers. John paced in the waiting room of the emergency area like a caged cat. Peter sat on a chair, feet apart, bracing his arms on his knees and resting his chin on his clenched hands. Phillip leaned on a wall and silently prayed.

Doctor Mark Dugan had read over the paper that had come with the girl. The unsigned sheet had given a diagnosis of Hyperemesis gravidarum, and he totally agreed. Nevertheless not being an obstetrician, he called for Doctor Craig, the head of Obstetrics to come and examine the girl. He wanted to take no chance with the health of the famous girl.

Doctor Craig read over the reports and discussed his findings with Dugan before ordering intravenous fluids– to restore hydration, electrolytes, vitamins, and nutrients. They both watched over the girl's vital signs before going to speak with the family.

John jumped when the door opened, moving to where the two doctors stood. "How is she?"

"She's stabilizing…. And we don't think any harm has come to the baby…" Doctor Craig announced.

"What baby?" All three Darling men asked in unison.

Doctor Craig looked at John who seemed to be the leader for the family. "Miss Darling is pregnant…" He placed a hand at John's elbow, quietly adding. "There are signs of trauma….and we believe she was raped…"

John blanched, and placed a hand to his face. "Can we see her?" When the Doctor agreed, John motioned for the two other Darling men to follow him into the little area where Wendy lay strapped to a table and being pumped with fluids. He looked at the Doctor, "Can you… do an abortion?"

"Not without her permission." Doctor Craig explained; "And not without rendering her unable to bear another child." He looked at the Darling men with concern. "Were any of you aware of her medical conditions?"

John frowned. "We were not as close as we should have been….she's American you know."

Nodding Craig looked at the girl whose color was improving. "Yes, I was aware."

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets. "Who would do this to her?"

John didn't wish to say more, but he had his suspicions. "Her conditions… will they complicate her pregnancy?"

The doctor shrugged. "A good deal depends on how well she responds to treatment."

Reaching for his hand, John once more went into head of family mode. "Thank you, Doctor. We will be most grateful if you'd accept her as a patient for her duration here."

Craig gave them a curt bow. "I'd be honored to help the Darling family." He then gave them a few moments with Wendy while he arranged to have her transferred up to the maternity floor.

John took a seat and looked at her, "Oh Wendy," he sighed.

James Hook looked at his bed, and found it wanting. He paced his grand suite of rooms and felt the sudden urge to vacate the premises. Swiftly he gave orders to pack up what they could and get moved out of the great house. Some inner sense had always served him well, and he was sure it was serving him well now.

Three days later Wendy awoke in a room full of beautiful flowers, for a moment she thought perhaps she'd died and was in heaven. The slight urge to lose her cookies told her otherwise. She looked about and found a sweet faced nurse standing over her. "Where am I?" she asked slightly disoriented.

"St. George's hospital in London, miss." The nurse informed her gently. "Your cousins' have been waiting for you to awaken. Do you feel up to seeing them?"

Wendy didn't really, but knew that John would be coming through the door anyway. "Sure, send them in." She settled her self and took a deep breath. Her three male cousins were followed into her room by an official looking fellow with a serious grimace. Wendy knew he had to be there but didn't appreciate it. She reached out her arms when John darling came near, and then to each of her cousins as he too approached.

John drew the official forward. "Wendy, this is Inspector Torrance. He's been on your case since you went missing."

"Inspector," Wendy gave him a respectful nod before turning to John. "I'm sorry to have caused such trouble, John."

Taking a seat on the edge of her bed the man placed a protective arm over her. "Not at all poppet, not at all…my fault for not heeding that inner voice."

"Inner voice?" The inspector asked harshly. "What inner voice would that be, Mr. Darling?"

John looked over at the man answering cautiously. "I've always had this inner sense of when something was going wrong… I had it the night Wendy and her driver disappeared."

The official didn't look like he was buying it, "Miss Darling, what do you remember?"

"I was drugged… someone must have slipped something into the tea I was drinking…"

"You were drinking tea at the celebration?" Again the inspector didn't look impressed or believing; "While everyone else was drinking alcohol?"

Leaning against John for support, the girl nodded. "I was having a bit of a woman's issue at the time and I have always found a good strong cup of tea more helpful." She explained softly. "I lost consciousness in the back seat of the limo… and when I awoke, I was bound and gagged." She raised her hands and showed her scared wrists to the inspector. "Everything is more or less a blur."

"I see," The Inspector put his hands behind his back and regarded the girl rather grimly. "Have you any recollection of your rapist?"

Bristling at the question, Wendy shook her head. "I was kept in a dark room, and his face is a mystery to me." She began to rub the scar on her wrist as if it were paining her again.

Doctor Craig entered the room and began to chase the men out. "For the love of God, the woman is recovering, out! All of you, out!" He glared at the inspector; "You too."

John kissed the brow of the girl resetting into the pillows. "I'll be back later."

"Come alone," Wendy said in an undertone that could not be heard beyond the man bent over her. He nodded as he kissed her again. Wendy watched as they all filed out with the exception of the doctor. She looked at the bottle on the hanger dripping fluids into her system. "What is that?" She asked pointing to the bottle.

"Fluids to restore hydration, electrolytes, vitamins, and nutrients," Doctor Craig said as he picked up her wrist to check her pulse. "You're responding nicely."

"No drugs?" she asked.

"No, I prefer to take a cautious track with meds." He took a seat in a chair he pulled closer. "Your cousins seemed to know very little about your medical condition; that is rather odd."

"No, not really…I seldom come to the British Isles…." She said guardedly. "So tell me, Doctor, am I going to live?"

Doctor Craig leaned back and looked at her for a long moment before answering. "Your cousin John was suggesting an abortion."

"Out of the question," she said placing a hand over her abdomen.

"I see," Craig leaned forward. "You are well aware of the risks?"

"I am," she sighed resigned.

"I will be of course forwarding my findings to your personal physician," he took out a pen and note pad from his hospital coat. "If you'll give me his name,"

"No." Wendy said quietly and pursed her lips. "Doctor, I'm going to ask you to turn my files over to me, and forget you ever saw me….for your own safety."

The man looked at her in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

The girl pursed her lips tighter. "I'm not sure I can explain, but after I leave here, I want you to forget my face, my name and my condition." She patted her tummy. "We will thank you to do us this favor."

"Will you see a doctor?" He asked.

"I promise you, I will." She was already thinking of what her next move was to be. "So, how long do I have to be here?"

Doctor Craig looked at her chart and then the bottle hanging. "I'd like to get at least another bottle in you before releasing you." His voice was reasonable.

"Done," she agreed. "Now, just between you and I, how soon can I travel?"

"How far?"

"Across the pond," she said firmly.

He considered her condition and said softly, "I'd say a week, maybe two…"

"Alright," she tapped her chin. "Doctor Craig, will I have any more problems with the morning sickness?"

"Not if you stay hydrated, get enough bed rest and follow a diet I'll prescribe for you." He said making a note on her chart. "I'll have all that information for you and your records, before I release you, Miss Darling….but where will you go until you can…travel?"

"The Darling house…" she said very sure of her Cousin John's wish. "I'm sure John will as for you to see me after I'm at the house, for your own good, don't do it. Make some excuse, and I will explain to John..." She reached out a hand to the man. "I am grateful to you for all you've done for us." Her voice was sincere and the doctor smiled back at her before taking his leave.

"Well," she said placing a hand to her tummy. "It seems you and mummy are going to have to be very cagy to out smart your daddy…If you want to out smart a pirate, think like one…" she mused; "Who would have thought a baby would be the one to deliver me from the clutches of Captain Hook?"

James looked at the fashionable house in London's Belgravia district. He had owned this place for years, but until now had never used it. His servants moved swiftly to make the rooms comfortable for their master.

Sitting in one of his winged back chairs in the formal sitting room, James read the newspaper account of the mysterious appearance of the Darling girl. No mention of her delicate condition was made. He tossed the paper aside, "Smee, send a car for Lizzie Darling… it would seem I may need her help in keeping tabs on my Darling girl."

Smee frowned, he didn't like or approve of Miss Lizzie but knew better than to protest.

The day before Wendy was to be released from the hospital she had an unexpected visitor, Lizzie. In the hands of her distant and aloof cousin was a vase containing birds of paradise. Wendy looked at the flowers with a counterfeit smile, keeping up the sham of being happy to see Lizzie and thanking her for her concern, and assuring her that she intended to convalesce at the Darling house for a long time. When the blond exited the room, Wendy looked at the beautiful flowers and pursed her lips. "Keeping tabs?" she asked aloud before turning her back on the gift that had not come from her cousin at all. 'Think like a pirate,' she told herself before drifting off to sleep and formulating the beginnings of her plan to escape the far reaching clutches of James Hook.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15.**

**Wendy Darling's escape**

Wendy sat in the bed in Great Grannies old room, trying to not hear John roaring. He had been doing it for hours. She heard the heavy footfalls telling her that all her close male relations were on their way up to the room. The oak door swung open and John advanced in needing to be held back by Peter, Phillip, Michael and a few other male cousins. "Told him," Wendy batted her eye lashes prettily at Peter. "Did you?"

"He figured it out on his own," John snapped. "Why didn't you tell us Lizzie was involved in your… being held a captive?"

"Oh yes," Wendy scoffed. "I can see it now…" She rolled her eyes.

Peter seeing John was back under some kind of control took a seat on the bed. "We've barred her from visiting you here. We don't allow servants up here, only us…. Now are you going to tell us what your plan is?"

"No," Wendy insisted. "If I do, it would put you all to risk. I'm going to have to ask you to trust me on this one; _**you**_ most of all John dear."

Taking a seat he scowled at her. "Marry me, and that will foil the bastard."

"Not a chance," she said knowingly. "He'd make me a widow in less time than it takes to build a bird's nest."

Peter put his hand over his cousin's covered foot. "What do you want us to do?"

"This is going to take timing and precession," she warned. "I have an appointment at St. George's hospital the end of this week. Peter, I want you to get me the best laptop…. Brand new, unregistered and unopened… Don't purchase it yourself, send that little secretary of yours…have her take it home…" She looked at Phillip and smiled. "I need clothes, I have a list and I want you to see to it that it's purchased and packed." She looked over at Michael. "Have a cab in the Hospital's garage; I'm going to use it to escape."

John winced. "Wendy, darling, is there nothing for me to do?"

"John, you're going to take me to the hospital," looking at her cousins she said, "We'll use the old standing bridge." It was a code, old as the hills, and she hoped they remembered it. "John, send them all down stairs."

John inclined his head and the young men of the Darling family exited. Once he was sure they were alone he took a seat on the bed, "I was serious when I asked you to marry me."

"I know you were," Wendy touched his arm. "John I've always loved you…but only as a cousin and you deserve to be loved as a man."

"I deserve a good swift kick in the ass," he scowled. "I should have protected you… I knew you weren't feeling well…."

"John stop beating yourself up…I should have remembered what Granny said about James Hook." Wendy looked embarrassed at her cousin, before she continued. "Granny said that the man could be utterly charming and captivating when he wanted to be."

"Damn, she did, didn't she?" John too was recalling the old woman's stories. "Alright you sent the boys away for a reason, so out with it."

"I need to get into the attic, and I'm afraid in my condition to go up there alone John." Wendy said firmly. She then pointed to her belongings that had been returned mysteriously to the Darling house. "Granny's trunk needs to go up there for safe keeping… I cannot afford to take it with me, it's a dead giveaway to any spies James has watching."

"What else," He asked.

"There's some things Granny and I hid up there…I want to take them with me, just little things I can wear on my person…and her old sewing basket. It will fit into the carpet bag I'm going to use." Wendy flipped the blanket back and shoved her toes into kidd slippers. "Come on Johnny, time to start the great escape." She leaned on his arm as they moved up to the attic.

John looked at the spot where the trunk of Granny's treasures to Wendy would soon be returning. "I'll keep everything for you safe and sound. I won't allow Lizzie or anyone connected to her up here." He promised. "When you return to us, all will be as it should be, and your inheritance will be right as you left it."

Wendy tip toed across the floor to the hidden shelf behind one of the chimneys. Reaching in, she closed her hand around a little figurine. Pulling her hand out, she showed the diminutive item to John. "A doll?" he asked.

Wendy twisted the doll, and popped it open. It was one part of a matryoshka doll set, and inside it held a treasure no other member of the Darling family knew of. Lifting the item, Wendy showed John a blue velvet draw string purse full of something that sparkled. "What is that?" he asked.

"Fairy dust," Wendy said solemnly. "Tinkerbell's I think, Granny never really said. All I know is Peter Pan gave it to her when her returned her here that night, told her to keep it safe incase she ever needed it…."

As if it were poison, John withdrew his fingers before they connected. "Oh my God, Wendy, do be careful with that."

Wendy nodded, tightened the strings so not a speck of precious fairy dust would escape. "John, please open that old armoire, and open up the bottom panel… yes, there." She motioned for his hand to move. "There's a little trap lever."

"Found it, no dead bodies… right?" He looked at her as he pulled the leaver. In the armoire was a carpet bag, John knew it had been Granny's. Tenderly, lovingly he picked up and shook it out a little. "Granny's bag, I remember this one… she used it when we were kids and she'd take us over to the park." He looked back at the hidden space. "Wendy, there's a shawl in here as well… and a letter." Reaching down he picked up the letter and the shawl beneath it. "It's addressed to you, Wendy…." he turned and looked at her. "It's from Granny." He moved toward her with the note. "I'd recognize her scrawl anywhere."

The girl named for her great grandmother stood for a moment staring at the envelope before she took it into trembling fingers. "She must have suspected…." She gently slid her finger into the flap and the old glue gave way. The note inside was wrapped about several items; a key, a bank book from a Swiss Bank and some other odds and ends. Wendy unfolded the note.

_**Dearest child,**_

_**If you are reading this, it means my worst fears have come true. Captain James Hook has returned. I have feared since your birth that you were the one he would wreak havoc upon as you are named for and resemble me so very much. Perhaps that is why I was so relieved that your father chose to keep you at such a distance from us. **_

_**I told you once when you were a very small child, and I do hope you recall, that to beat a pirate one must think as a pirate. **_

_**I leave these things to you; perhaps they can be of some use; take care, my dearest child.**_

_** Love,**_

_** Granny Wendy**_

John read the note over her shoulder, "What was in the envelope?" he asked.

"This key," Wendy showed it to her cousin. "It looks like a strong box key, doesn't it?"

"Great, great grand dad's bank box," John pointed to a shelf across the span of the attic. "He put it up here and no one has touched it since… I'll bet Granny put something in it for you…" He started across the floor, "Come on Wendy…"

"John, you're getting too involved." She warned following. "This will put you in danger…"

"Nonsense," he muttered as he took the key from her. "All I'm doing is going through some dusty old boxes with my cousin. It's not like I have any idea of what you'll be doing once you leave here."

"That's true," she murmured.

John found the old box from their ancestor's bank; it still bore the name of the bank on the lid. "Grand-dad George was very good at investments Granny said. That's one of the reasons we are so solvent." He took the box off its shelf, and placed it on a table. Carefully he inspected the lock. "I'll tell you this, it's not light… there's something heavy in there."

"There are most likely a lot of heavy things in there…." Wendy watched as her cousin placed the key into the lock, her hand halted him. "John, are you sure you want to open this?"

"What Granny put in here stays between you and me, cousin." He promised as the lock clicked and fell open. John took it off and laid it aside. He popped the lid open easily, and looked inside. "Good God," he gasped. Within the box were several more matryoshka dolls from the same set. He looked over at the girl. "Do you remember any of these dolls?"

"No, John… but look at how they are painted… This is not the cartoonish rendition of Peter Pan… this is the way Granny and Mr. Barrie described him…" She reached for one of the dolls and hesitated. "John, most are the same size… This is not one set, it's several."

"Open that one," he pointed to the one with their Great Granny's image on it.

Obediently she lifted the finely crafted carved doll, and opened it. Inside was another velvet bag, this one didn't contain fairy dust. It held diamonds. Wendy looked over at John, her lips quivering. "Hook's treasure…. The gems the lost boys and Michael brought back…."

"Granny must have collected the smaller gems and hid them… for safe keeping in case of an emergency." John agreed. "Look, another note," he lifted the almost hidden paper. "It says, take just what you need." He patted her hand. "I'll bet there's different kinds of gems in each of these."

"No doubt," Wendy grumbled with a slight bit of resentment.

Letting the doll he was touching fall back into the box, John straightened up and looked at her with that cool English reserve the Darling men were known for. "Wendy Mora Angelia Darling, you listen to me," He gripped her elbow. "Hook got you into this mess; his treasure can damn well pay your way." He tapped the box. "You're not taking the entire treasure… just what you need to do what ever it is you've got plotted in that head of yours."

Wendy heaved a sigh and nodded. "You're right John…" She picked up several little empty bags in the bottom of the container. "Good thing I know a thing or two about gems."

"And I thought Granny was nuts when she insisted we all get certified as gemologists." He snickered.

"Not all of us, just you and I and Peter…" Wendy corrected him blithely.

"Phillip did it on his own you know," John said looking at the girl. "Only Lizzie was kept out of the loop… good thing, eh?"

"Lizzie," Wendy frowned when she spoke her cousin's name. "Is her own worst enemy…always was."

"I thought she'd out grow it," John huffed.

Wendy opened the little bank book. "John, this is a Swiss account…." She handed the book to the young man. "Just numbers, no names….. no paper trail."

"Granny thought like a pirate," John glibly joked.

"Granny thought better than a pirate," Wendy paced, "Ho," she snapped her fingers and turned to the young man. "And her name sake is about to teach one old codfish a long deserved lesson!"

--

Lizzie and her beau sat in the parlor, in her hands a bouquet of Bird's of Paradise. She was becoming impatient. "Phillip, I see no reason why I cannot just trot on up and give Wendy this flowers," she bitterly complained. She had never before been barred from any where in the Darling complex.

"Lizzie," Wendy said as she came into the parlor on John's arm. "How lovely of you to visit me again. And what with you so busy with the Wedding plans. It's only a week a way, yes?"

The willowy blond looked at her cousin with a bit of aloofness. "You're looking much better," she commented watching the under the weather cousin take her seat. "I've brought you these," her hands trembled remembering the order to give the flowers to the other girl.

"How kind of you to deliver them yourself," Wendy stated gently.

Peter looked over at Phillip who was looking at the seething Michael. John cleared his throat and all the boys looked to him. "Gentlemen, I say we retire to our study and allow the ladies a bit of girl time." He looked at the young man marrying into the family. "Come along." He invited cordially.

Wendy waited until the gents had exited before she let her smile fade slightly. She placed the flowers on the table before turning to stare angrily at her cousin. "Now that it's just us, would you mind telling me why you allowed yourself to become a puppet for the man who sent these?"

"What man," questioned the blonde trying to keep things from escalating; "I brought you these…."

"Lizzie, Bird's of Paradise is the trade mark of Captain James Hook." Wendy addressed her with coldness. "You've never liked me, so don't tell me you've gone all warm and fuzzy inside… what did he threaten you with?"

"Exposure," Lizzie admitted flatly.

"I see," the American Darling stood up and sighed. "I feel so sorry for you, Lizzie… you had every thing…. You had England … and you let yourself be dragged down." She pointed to the direction that the young men had retreated in. "That man has no idea of what he's being dragged into either, does he? No, I can see by your face he doesn't. You've made your bed Lizzie, and there's no way out of it for you, I'm afraid."

"Are you going to tell," Lizzie asked fearing she was about to face public scandal.

"No," Wendy grumbled. "No, I'm not….but understand this Lizzie… you'll get nothing more from me… no pity, no help, nothing. We are done, you are dead to me."

"Wendy you don't understand…" Lizzie pouted thinking she could win sympathy.

"Have you any idea of what he did to me?" Wendy Darling watched her cousin blanch. "He tied me down, ripped my garments and raped me, Lizzie… because he knew he could get me with his child…. He forced me to live with him, to accept him… and the things he wanted from me…"

"It couldn't have been that bad," Lizzie began to protest.

Pulling back the cuffs of the dressing gown, Wendy extended on arm then the other and showed the scars on her wrists to Lizzie. "No?"

Lizzie pulled away, "I had no choice…" she exclaimed.

"You had a choice, and you found me expendable." Wendy found herself feeling very tired. "Go Lizzie, and don't come back here until I'm gone…and don't come looking for me…" She ordered.

--

John found Wendy in the parlor alone, "Lizzie and her gent are gone," he announced.

Wendy was standing looking out the window. "I'm going to miss this house…this view."

"You could stay," John tempted once more.

Sadly she smiled as she turned. "No, John… I cannot." She placed a hand to his forearm as he came closer. "Tomorrow you will drive me to St. George's hospital, and I will vanish… I shall be in touch… but I'm not going to tell you where I'm going or how I'm getting there."

"I don't like the idea of you being all alone," John placed his hand over hers on his arm.

"I'm not alone," Wendy said gently. "I've got the next generation of Darling," her free hand rested on the ever so slight baby-bump.

--

James was reading his paper when the informant came in. "She's got an appointment tomorrow morning at St. George's…"

James looked at Lizzie and smiled. "Good work,"

Lizzie pouted. "I hate you."

"I don't care," James said waving her off.

--

Several days before the appointment, the Darling boys had begun to put into motion the portions of the plan that Wendy had let them in on. John had secreted the now full carpet bag into the boot of his car. Michael, Phillip and Peter had all left the house as they would any other morning, and gone about the daily tasks they had laid out. Each took his own vehicle to destinations all over London. Each then found a taxi and made his way to the Hospital. There were five taxis in all, and each of them was driven by random drivers.

Wendy was dressed in a plain blue coat when she slid into the passenger's seat of John's car. When they arrived at the garage, she scurried out of the car, and dumped her coat. She accepted the coat that Phillip held open to her. She kissed her brave cousins farewell and got into the taxi. Each of the Darling's then got into a taxi, including John. They all planned on heading out to different destinations and would return for John's car later.

"Kensington," Wendy said removing the wig that hid the changes in hairstyle she had created that morning. No longer was her hair a sweet honey blond, nor was it long and elegant. She pulled dark rimmed glasses from the purse she'd had Michael fill for her and bring. When the taxi pulled out of the dark garage, and the driver got his first look at the young woman in the back seat, she no longer resembled Wendy Darling.

--

James waited for the report on how Wendy and the baby she carried faired. He was becoming worried, it had been hours since the appointment and there had been no word. He had not known such fear, not in his entire adult life. But here he was, worrying over a girl and the child she was carrying. And for the life of him he was not sure whom he was more worried over.

Smee came into the room; his face told the Captain something was wrong. "She's gone, Captian…" the laughable figure of a man said, taking his sea cap into his hands and wringing them together.

"Gone," James sunk into a chair, "How? When…." He closed his eyes, pained at the thought of the young woman who had so recently shared his bed having died. "How did she die?"

Smee looked started, and then began backing up. "She's not dead, Captain… she's gone…"

Bewildered, forget-me-not eyes looked up. "What? Not dead?" he stood up and roared coming out of the confused befuddled state of shock. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"Just up and disappeared… as if she never existed." Smee whispered.

Going to the window, James flung it open and roared to the skies. "WENDY!!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16. **

**The Widow Rodgers**

The taxi left the young woman holding a carpet bag in one hand and a laptop carrying case in the other off in Kensington Gardens. She marched over to the statue that had disappointed J.M. Barrie so very much, and found she agreed with him. It was too sweet, had not devil in it. She walked past the statue, with her head held high and passed through the park unhampered by man woman or child. Once she reached the other side of the park she hailed another taxi and asked to go to Kensington station where she paid for a ticket eastbound to Penzance in Cornwall.

Having been raised a Darling even though she was an American she understood how to behave like an English lady. She kept to herself on the journey, giving polite space to the traveling companions in the car along with her, keeping to herself. She had picked up a typical British magazine and was reading it as if it were part of her daily routine. The trip took four hours, and she found herself counting the miles and kilometers as the train chugged its way away from London, and the grip of one sea captain who had underestimated one Darling.

Once the train pulled into the station at Penzance, the young woman alighted with the rest of the passengers. She carried her own bags, headed toward the stand of taxis and haled one. Slipping into the seat she looked at the driver coolly; "Widow's Warf Inn, please."

Tipping his cap he engaged the engine and pulled into traffic. "Yes, ma'am."

The young woman wished she had the time to spend in the quaint town. It looked peaceful and homey, but she was only staying as long as it took to book her next portion of this journey. She looked out the window, careful to keep her schooled mask in place. The trip over to the Inn took little time, but it was worth it. For something in the magazine had caught her attention. 'Think like a pirate,' went through her mind as she leafed through the pages once more.

Entering the inn, she moved to the reservation desk with a discipline that had been drilled into all the Darling children. She looked at the young man at the desk, and addressed him respectfully. "I'd like a room please," she began to write her information… misinformation…on the card.

"How long?" the young clerk asked politely.

"Just tonight," she stated coolly, signing the card with her new name for the first time.

Looking at her signature the young man nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Rodgers." He handed the key to her room over. "That will be room 206, it overlooks the harbor.

Accepting the key, the young woman knew she had just accepted her new identity completely. Gone was poor, sweet Wendy Darling. Now she would have to think and act and live the life of Jill Rodgers, widow of the recently deceased Captain James Rodgers, RAF. She knew there could be no letting down of her guard. Wendy Darling had to remain MIA if her plan was to succeed. Placing the case with the laptop on the bed, she moved to the window and gazed out at the harbor. "Think like a pirate," she told herself aloud. "He'll expect you to try to get right back to the states… so why don't you see the continent?"

She opened up her purse, took out a flat book, and looked at the passport that belonged to the new her. Gone were the soft honey blond wavy locks, preplaced by coal black curls. Cutting her hair had taken the weight off and instead of waves; she had a riot of curls. She had changed her makeup as well, and was wearing more expressive eye and lip color. What resemblance there had been to Great Granny seemed erased by the cunning changes; she'd even noticed that she was walking differently. "Don't get too cocky, Jill…." She said looking out the window. "You're not out of the woods yet, my girl."

She had chosen the name only that morning; it was serendipity there was a causality bearing the same name. Now she was going to have to take time to figure out who the hell Jill Rodgers was, and build her a history. Doing that would take all the skills she'd learned on her computer and the confidential codes that few knew of. As luck would have it, the laptop found the wireless connections that abounded in the harbor. For a moment she wished Peter were here, as he was far better at hacking than she was. However it was her own skills she was going to have to rely on from here on out. Keying in the code, she waited and was pleased to find herself in. "Well James," she cooed. "If I were you, I'd expect that poor dim girl to high tail it home to the safety of mommy and daddy…." She brought up an atlas, and pursed her lips. "So Jill will go somewhere else… somewhere you'd never expect her to go… ah… Singapore!" Her tummy did a little twitch and she looked down. "So glad you approve," she mused. "Now just don't tell daddy…"

Sitting Indian styled on the bed, she looked up places that would be offering a tour of the orient. When she read the list she could not resist what was in the middle. There was a Scottish firm offering a fine tour of the orient. She liked the name of the firm, "Pat-a-Pan," she chuckled aloud. "Oh this is just too rich!" Taking the cell phone that Michael had found for her, she set it up with her computer under the name of Jill Rodgers. The first call she made was to the Pat-a-Pan tour agency to book passage on the next oriental tour.

--

James had gone very quiet, and Smee wished he would explode or something. This quiet was too eerie, and far too dangerous. "How does a Darling disappear?" he suddenly asked aloud. "She's not that brilliantly gifted!" He flung the pen he'd been holding aside. "I just don't understand."

Smee shrugged, "She must have had help."

"Get that fucking bitch Lizzie here," growled the incensed sea captain. "I don't care if you have to drag her in naked or in the middle of a good fuck! Just bring her in." He went to his study, slamming the door.

Smee listened, but no organ music followed. "Oh dear," he sighed. "That canna be good."

--

Jill Rodgers took her afternoon tea on the enclosed upper deck of the Inn's restaurant, which also faced the harbor. Ordering food that was within the diet prescribed by the physician, she also ordered tea. It was a clear day, and she was enjoying the harbor. She kept to herself, eating and drinking alone and enjoying the English styled solitude; alone in a crowd.

The time alone gave her a good chance to begin to ink out what she wanted Jill to be. She was going to have to be independent that was paramount. She would also need to be far more self confidant than Wendy had ever been. She'd have to rely on herself; there'd be no contact with her parents, as she refused to put them at risk. She was sure James would even now be watching them for any contact. One thing she was glad of was that she'd thought to go up to the attic and retrieve one of the old rings that had been in the treasure Chest the Lost Boys had pilfered from Hook when they took possession of the Jolly Roger. She could play the widow to the hilt with the proper props. She toyed with the ring as she sat gazing out at sea.

"Have a man at sea?" a voice asked.

Reacting as she believed Jill would, she turned to the sound keeping her eyes from meeting those of the person now at her elbow; "No, not any longer." She looked back at sea. She heard the whispers and grew confident. She could do this, she could.

--

Lizzie stood looking horrified as James threatened to reveal her past to her beau. "You can't," she pleaded. "I don't know where she's gone, and I don't think the boys do either… she's just vanished."

Hook glared at the turncoat Darling girl. "I'm sorry to hear that, Lizzie." He stated coldly, walking away from her. "It seems then there is nothing you can do to stop me." He enjoyed the fact that he was giving her audience in the sitting room outside his bedchamber.

"There must be something I can do," she regretted it even before the words left her lips.

James didn't bother to look at her; he knew she was regretting her outburst. He knew too she fully expected him to take her up on the offer of…anything she could do. "Smee, Miss Lizzie here and I will be occupied for some time….hold my calls." James opened the door to the bed room. "Come along Lizzie," he commanded; "Time to put that pretty mouth of yours to better use than talking." When she hesitated he abruptly added. "I could just call my men in and watch as they have their way with you." Lizzie shook her head; slowly she moved into the bedroom and sank to her knees as was expected of her.

--

Her sleep was troubled, and she heard someone calling her, calling her by the name Wendy. Sitting up she listened in the dark, and knew she'd been dreaming. There was pelting rain, and she blamed the sounds it made for the troubled sleep. Still she knew the voice she'd dreamed of. It was him, James, calling out to her. Pulling the blanket tightly over her and placing one hand protectively over her baby bump she whispered. "I won't let him get you."

--

The blonde sat terrified on the floor of the bedroom, "What more can I do?" she wailed.

The man closed his eyes; his good hand waved the woman off. "Leave," he growled in a very dangerous tone. "Just leave."

Lizzie stared at the lump that refused to grow, that seemed to retract even further at her very touch. "I didn't do anything wrong," she wailed with tears flowing. She got off her knees and pulled her clothes back into place. "I didn't do anything wrong!" She fled.

James glared down at his shrinking manhood. "Impossible," he muttered. He was not sure what upset him more. The lump that refused to spring to life, the woman who had not been able to inspire him, or was it himself he was angry with. He had cried out her name while the blonde was trying to entice his manhood to life. "Smee," he moaned. "I need a toddy." He zipped up and sulked.

--

The next morning, after paying her bill she took a light breakfast in the Inn's restaurant and then caught the train that would take her north to Scotland and the next lap of her journey. The English country side rolled by, placid and still. She had spent New Years in Hospital, and then more than two weeks abed in the Darling complex. Freedom was not something she intended to take for granted, not now, not ever again. James had not allowed her out of the room much less that house, where ever it was. Seeing winter caress the countryside gave her a feeling of peace.

The station in Glasgow was crowded, and bustling with life. She remembered a little place her father had said he had stayed in once, and headed for the information booth. "Excuse me but is there still a place called King's Crow Inn? I believe it used to be on Market Street."

The girl in the booth let her fingers fly over the keyboard of her computer. "Yes, ma'am; it's still open for business." She wrote down the address on a card and handed it 'Jill', who carried it in her gloved hand toward the exit. Finding a taxi was easy enough as was finding the King's Crow. She entered the homey Inn and approached the reservation desk. "Good afternoon," she greeted the receptionist. "I'd like to book rooms for the next week."

"Name please," the girl brought out a guests book.

"Jill Rodgers, Mrs. Jill Rodgers," the young woman watched behind her glasses as the other girl wrote down her name carefully.

"Pleasure of business, Mrs. Rodgers;" asked the receptionist.

Jill pursed her lips before answering rather provocatively. "A bit of both actually." Giving the other girl a cryptically smile she accepted the key to a room. She was given instructions on where the room was before she moved quietly to the lift. "Three please." She said to the operator of the lift.

The Inn was not large by the standard of what Americans were use to. It had only four floors and only ten rooms on each floor. However, it was clean and it was orderly, best of all it was only a few blocks from the Travel agency and it was close enough to the trendy shops to walk. The room she had booked was cozy and had a lovely view. Her only regret was that she'd be in Glasgow so short a time. She decided to make every moment count; she put her carpet back on the floor of the armoire that served as a closet in the room. She also stored her laptop in there as well. Then armed with only her pocket book and her good walking shoes she set out to see what she could of the old town.

Having grown up in the States, the young woman had an appreciation for the old-fashioned and dated buildings of the old section of Glasgow. It was somehow familiar and comforting to her as she walked down to the little row of shops. The red in the bricks of many of the building seemed to glow warmly. Shops were friendly and well stocked, and the day was going well.

She took a break in a little tea room, where she ordered high tea and took her medication on time. Observing her taking the tablet, one of the waitresses asked if there was a problem. "Oh no, this is for my condition… I'm going to have a blessed event," Jill placed a hand to her tummy.

"Ah a wee _**bairn**_ …." Crowed the waitress happily. "And here we thought ye were having a spot of indigestion." A gentle hand was placed on the girls shoulder. "Yer husband must be overjoyed."

Letting a touch of sadness come to her features the girl whispered. "He was, yes." She looked away, blinking back tears.

"Ah child," the woman consoled the girl; "A poor wee widow?"

Jill nodded, but said no more. She finished her tea and went back to the Inn to rest.

--

James stared out his window, miserable. Where could she have gotten to? None of his contacts seemed to be able to locate her. It was as if she'd never existed. Her parents home was being watched, all their phone lines had been tapped to no avail. There had been no communications with them. Not even from the Darling Compound. James had people watching that house as well. But there was no sign and no word.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated and aggravated to the point of wanting to throttle someone or something. He had thought only one person in the universe could cause him this kind of annoyance. And although the boy Pan had been troublesome, he was nothing compared to the exasperation he was experiencing now. "When I get my hand on you…" he growled to himself. "I will crush you within an inch of your sorry life, you bitch."

Smee tapped at the door frame. "Captain Sir," he cleared his throat. "There's been no word from any of the operatives."

James half laughed, half cried as he turned to the man who'd been with him for centuries. "Where the hell could she have disappeared to? How hard is it to locate one silly female?"

"She's a Darling, sir… they're a crafty lot, they are." Smee reminded the man with bloodshot eyes. "You should rest sir…."

Turning back to night falling on the city, Hook sighed dejectedly. "Rest? How can I rest? That blasted woman has my child… and ….my…." he stopped himself he would not admit he cared for the captive. "My plans are being disrupted…Smee," he growled as his hand smacked the window frame, rattling the glass.

--

Mrs. Jill Rodgers paid her bill and found herself on her way to Glasgow International Air Port, where she joined the passengers aboard a jet headed toward the orient. Tucked into her carpet back were several little velvet bags containing tiny flawless gems. In her purse was the bag that contained the precious Fairy Dust. As the jet rose into the air, she looked back at the British Isles and whispered coolly; "Good bye, James." She looked forward, feeling a sense of victory.

--

Smee brought the telegram to the Captain, the news was not good. The operatives in the United States could find no evidence that Wendy Darling had returned. In fact she'd gone off the gird all together. James crumpled the paper in his good hand, put his head on his desk and vowed to beat the life out of her once she'd been found and the child was born.

--

Singapore City was the last of the stops on the Asian tour before the tour was due to return to Scotland. Jill had enjoyed the journey and the acquaintances she'd made. Her traveling companion was an elderly widow who took her under her wing. Most often they shared accommodations. There was also a young couple who also spent time with them. In fact almost everyone on the tour seemed to be friendly and considerate, so much so that she hated having to lie to them all. However, she was building the background of her new identity, and the safety of her child was above all else.

Jill excused her self on the second day in Singapore City, explaining that she had a contact that she had to keep. In the Jade trading district she found the place she was looking for, and she entered the shop. When she exited the shop she had made arrangements to import fine jade and jade art once she had settled into her new home. She made similar arrangements with two other dealers of Jade. Jill Rodgers was going to be one busy woman when she found a home.

--

James looked at the calendar; it had been eight weeks and then some. He could feel some cosmic connection to a spark of life. At least she had not been able to sweep it from her life. Try as he might, he could not locate the spark. "Smee," he shouted as he took out the new calendar for the year. "I want to start watching hospitals, mostly birthing centers…. Right around… Solstice…. By the Gods my son should be born around the solstice!"

"Son?" Smee questioned. "You sure it will be a son…it could be a girl….one as dreadful as her mother."

James laughed coldly. "Wendy will give me a son, she wouldn't dare deliver a girl… not even she is that bold."

--

Jill Rodgers boarded the jet, but not the one headed back to Scotland. She boarded a jet headed to San Francisco, and the country of her origin. She got off the jet and noticed strange men all about; she heard the PA System page Miss Darling to the information desk. She didn't flinch or registered even a smile. She gathered the carpet bag, shouldered the laptop case and melted into the crowd. After all no one was looking for a woman with coal black short curly hair. She passed the spies and the men who were sent to escort the missing woman back into the captivity of Hook's lair.

Jill had a hunch that James was paging a Miss Darling in every air port and sea port. Too bad, she mused… Wendy was gone, and she was going to stay gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17.**

**Light at the end of a tunnel**

The well-dressed young woman carrying the funny looking carpet bag didn't bother with renting a car; instead she took a cab to the local Greyhound station, and boarded an east bound bus. She was not surprised to hear the Miss Darling page, but calmly ignored it. She stayed with the bus until it reached Ocean City Nevada, where she disembarked into the bright desert sunshine. Ocean City was neither near an ocean, nor a city; it was a glorified gas station bus stop. But there was something about the place that caught Mrs. Rodgers attention. She stepped off the bus and entered the café and asked for a glass of iced tea. Even though it was only early in the day, the desert sun was already baking the pavement. The dry heat hit her hard just stepping off the bus, but she had a feeling that one could grow accustomed to it. She thanked the waitress when she was served and stared out the window toward the open desert and a strange obelisk that seemed to be peaking out from between two mountains. For a moment she wondered if the heat had gotten to her, or if she were hallucinating. She blinked her eyes, clearing them and focused on the spire in the distance. It was still there, but it was not where it should be. She looked around for the waitress and beckoned her over.

"Excuse me, but what is that?" she pointed to the tip of the object.

"That's;" the crusty waitress huffed looking jadedly toward the window; "Our lighthouse."

"Your what?"

"Lighthouse," repeated the older woman in white nurse's shoes serving another customer ice tea out of the pitcher in her hand. "About eighty years ago, this slicker from the east comes out here… goes nuts and builds that thing. Said he had a vision, if you ask me he had too much tequila." Setting the pitcher down, she wiped her hands on her apron. "He lived there for oh, what…" she hemmed and hawed before she came up with an answer. "About thirty years." The Waitress sighed. "He thought it would be like Scotties Castle out in Death Valley. Thing is people flocked to see Scottie's… no one really wants to see a lighthouse in the desert."

"Who lives there now?" Jill asked fascinated by the idea of a lighthouse in the desert.

"No one," the woman said. "But about ten years ago, some idiot thought he could turn it into an art school… had it refitted with solar panels and an air pump to pump cold air from the inside the mountain into it in the summer and a hot air pump for winter." She leaned on the chair opposite Jill. "Can you imagine thinking you could start an art school out here?"

"Well it is beautiful country," Jill said looking out the window once more. "So what's going to become of it?"

"I don't know," the woman admitted. "There's a realtor down there at the end of this block…he's stuck with it." She saw that all the other customers were taken care of and took a seat opposite Jill. "See we're about a two hour trek to Vegas… and if it weren't for the buses going east and coming west, we'd have dried up a long time ago."

Snickering at the waitress quip, Jill turned her attentions to the older woman. "How did the name Ocean City happen?" Jill asked sipping her iced tea and enjoying the banter.

"That's sort of an in joke too," the woman leaned forward. "See this here is the dried up inland ocean bed, and when the sun is high the desert mirage makes it look like an ocean again ….and the prospectors who camped out here used to call it Ocean City…Back at the turn of the century we had quite the mining trade here… the town was bigger then…but when the mine went bust, so did most of the town…. Course you've got a few lifers here, some ranchers and some rock hunters…. Outside of that…it's a ghost town."

Jill sipped her tea, "This is the most refreshing tea I've ever had," she commented.

"That would be the water… the inland sea, well there's this large culverin we're sitting on, and the water is sweet and fresh and plentiful." The older woman smiled wisely. "Best damn water in the state!" She looked at the girl. "You're not from around here, are ya?"

"No, I'm not. Of late I'm not really from anywhere." Jill admitted. "Jill Rodgers." She extended a hand in greeting boldly.

"Molly Higgins," the waitress said. "You look worn out kid."

"I am… I've just gotten back states side, been living in England the last few years," Jill decided to try out her new back story to see if it worked. "I lost my husband just after New Years… Captain James Rodgers, RAF."

"English?" Molly quizzed. "But you're not English…"

"Nope, I'm not," Jill said with a face. "That's why I'm back here states side."

"Oh his family didn't approve of his American bride?" Molly was filling in spaces for Jill so quickly and Jill was letting her; "Snobs," Molly muttered darkly. "The English are such snobs!"

"Well I can't fault them, not entirely." Jill decided to soften the story. "After all they thought their boy was going to marry someone in his class…not some little nobody dealer of jade."

"How'd you meet?" Molly asked.

"Through a mutual business acquaintance," Jill fabricated the story further; "James' family deal in gem art as well as some rather pricey jewelry. James had joined the RAF before the unpleasantness as he called it… and was on leave. A jade broker friend was having a small reception and that's how we were introduced… He was quite the dashing figure in his uniform…" It was easy now to make up the memory she could live with. "Captain James Rodgers swept me off my feet… and talked me into an elopement… If I had known he was one of the Rodgers…"

"James Rodgers…." Molly's mouth dropped. "Rodgers and Rodgers LTD?" she gasped. "You're the widow of one of the Rodgers? Crown jeweler's to the Crown?" Jill nodded solemnly. Molly looked at the slightly larger bump on Jill's tummy. "They know about jr. there?"

Shaking her head, Jill shrugged. "They didn't want me, why should I tell them about…" she patted the bump.

Molly roared with laughter, "Spunky! I like that." She looked at the bus that would be pulling out in an hour. "So where you headed, Jill?"

"Hell I don't know," the girl retorted using her hands for emphasis. Then she looked at the lighthouse tip. "How much do you think they'd want for that eye sore?"

"You kidding? They'd let it go for a song," Molly looked out the window as well. "You know, it's a nice quiet place… great for raising a youngun… had three myself… all away at college now. The original owner really thought out the layout of the property… incorporated desert plants into his landscaping… and it's got the nicest courtyard….Even I have to admit, it's pretty out there."

"What's the name of the Realtor?" Jill asked.

"That would be Henry Dobbs, and here he comes now for his bear-claw." Molly stood up. "He gets one every morning. I'll send him over soon as I serve him."

Jill turned to see an aging man with a tiny bit of a pot developing. "Please do."

Henry Dobbs was not a young man, and he moved slowly toward the girl's table, "Molly said you have some questions for me," he said as he neared the young woman. "I'm Henry Dobbs, local real-estate agent… and township committeeman." He offered her his free hand giving hers a firm shake. His blue gray eyes under graying brows were friendly and open. He had the face of an honest man.

Jill motioned for him to join her. "I'm interested in the lighthouse." She explained. "I've a home based business, and I've a baby on the way… I need a place that will be large enough to accommodate both." She looked at the tip of the lighthouse again. "And a lighthouse in the desert is rather unique."

"Unique? Damned odd if you ask me," he gaffed, before pardoning himself. "Excuse my French…" He munched on the pastry as they talked.

"I understand," she said while leaning forward on the table. "But I really am interested…how much is the owner asking?"

"Well the owner is now the state…and all they want are the back taxes…Mostly they just want to get it off their hands and back into the tax roles." He said munching the pastry that had just been delivered to his seat. "The yahoo who purchased it ten years ago didn't even move in. He fixes it up, makes her a really nice looker…and then ups and disappears… some say he went sun mad and took off into the desert. There was a search, but nothing ever turned up… and after a year the state could find no heirs and took it over. Then two years ago they handed it to me and there it sits."

"So it's fully functional? I mean it has water and electricity and all the essentials?" Jill was taking notes.

"Yep," the man said. "Even has its own well… it's at the high end of the caldera." He smiled making himself look much more relaxed. "Has a nice little pond, and oasis garden. It's really pretty out there."

"An oasis," Jill was getting excited. "Does it have immediate occupancy?"

"Ah," the man thought for a moment, "I'm sure it could be arranged." He was now scrutinizing her gently. "It's a bit out of the way… and we're a few miles from the nearest clinic…" He gauged she looked like a tough little bird. "You might find it a bit lonely out there."

"I like solitude when I'm working," Jill explained coyly. "And I figure if I plan carefully, I can have a midwife come out and stay with me when I get closer to my due date. When can I see it?" Jill asked in a lively tone.

"Aren't you booked on that bus that's leaving in half an hour?" Henry looked skeptical.

Jill stood up, "Mr. Dobbs, I can have my luggage removed in less than five minutes; I'm traveling very lightly these days. I've been living in base housing for the last couple of years, so I don't own much right now. I've some things in storage but until I've a home… in storage they will stay."

Dobbs smiled up at her. "Well, little lady, we ain't got no fancy hotel, this bus stop has rooms but they are not fancy…but hell, I'll be happy to take you out to the lighthouse after I finish my bear-claw, so you best be getting your luggage."

"Molly, can I leave a carpet bag for you to watch?" Jill asked.

"Sure, we can even lock it up in a locker for you… back when this was a thriving stop we had lockers put in…now they just go to waste." the waitress called back as she poured coffee for the driver of the bus. "Looks like you're about to loose one of your riders, Tom." She purred as she spoke to the uniformed driver eating his breakfast.

The driver looked over his shoulder toward Jill. "She seems a nice kid; keep an eye on her Molly."

"You bet." Molly winked.

--

James stood in Kensington Gardens, staring at the statue, one of the seven commissioned by Wendy Darling's friend and confidant J.M.Barrie. He could feel the hackles rise on the back of his neck as he stood staring at the representation of his nemesis. Two things about the statue troubled the Captain, one was how innocent it made Pan appear. In Hook's book that was an out right lie, he didn't think of Pan as innocent. The second thing was how youthful it portrayed his nemesis as. The longer he stared, the angrier he became. Smee whispered from behind him that perhaps they should move along, and that people were staring. "Let them," he growled in answer now grinding his teeth.

"Captain, please," Smee pleaded softly.

Reluctantly taking his eyes off the offending statue, he turned to the man; "She was here," he told the disbelieving man. "I can still smell her scent… months later and I can still smell her."

"Are you sure?" Smee asked shifting his gaze to be sure their conversation was not being observed.

James looked at him in disgust. "I should have hired blood hounds," he muttered as he followed the trial of scent that clung to the Kensington Gardens air. "I'd have her back in me clutches now if I had…"

"You were going to let her go," Smee gasped in desperation. "That was the plan."

"I'd changed my mind," James announced growling darkly.

The little ageing pirate frowned. "When?"

"That last night," James closed his eyes and let the scent tantalize his senses. "She was so… responsive and tender… and…" blue forget-me-not eyes opened wide. "That's when I knew I'd never let her go." He huffed. "I had me my Wendy, and I intended to keep her… forever."

"Well your hired men are doing all they can," reasoned the old man. "You've got men posted watching the Darling houses, here and in the states… but there's been no word… she must still be here in England."

James rolled his eyes, toying with the idea of beating the man senseless with his walking stick. "No, she's gone… I'd know if she were here." His tone was far sharper than he would have cared to use, but frustration over the missing girl was taking its toll.

"Where else could she go?" wailed the aging pirate looking at his captain.

"I don't know!" roared the man, before stifling a sob. "I don't know." He took a seat on the nearest bench, feeling the way he had when he'd first seen Wendy Darling in Neverland. Until the moment he'd seen her, he'd been satisfied with just doing battle with Pan… after watching the way she was with him, then the way she was with his crew… He'd known he could never again be satisfied with being alone. He was in pain now, more pain than even when Pan had ripped his hand off and fed it to that blasted crock…He was heartsick, and wept openly. "I want my Wendy," he complained. "I don't want to be old, alone, done for."

Smee felt helpless as he stood beside his Captain and watched him weep.

--

Jill looked at the gate, her eyes nearly popping with surprise and joy. "It's beautiful," she said as Dobbs opened the garden gate.

Mr. Dobbs nodded; he too had to admit the unlikely landmark was pleasing to the eye. "Yes, it is." Strolling into the garden, one had to appreciate the fact that local stone had been used on the wall and in the garden benches of which there were three. "This is just the front garden," he cautioned. "The one in back is the oasis garden and it is even more stunning."

The Lighthouse tower was covered in white stucco, and tiled with lapis tiles near the top in a wave pattern. The roof was a bright terra cotta reddish orange, as was the roof of the two story house at its base. The blending of natural materials and the sea structure were amazingly well thought out. The wide and shaded veranda off the front of the building gave a welcomed cooling reception to any visitor. The desert plants in the courtyard garden were surprisingly vivid in color, and the red brick walk went well with the flora and fauna. The house was also covered in white stucco, and had colorful tiles here and there for decoration.

Inside the house was spacious and well lit and surprisingly cool. The large windows allowed light in, but didn't seem to allow the heat to enter as well. In the ceiling of each room was a large ceiling fan that was already on when they entered the dwelling. Jill looked at Dobbs worried that someone else was already there. "They're on a solar cell battery," he answered before she could question. "They come on, on their own, everyday." He pointed to the wooden floor of the living room and dinning room. "These are the only two rooms with hard wood flooring, the rest of the floors are terra cotta." The interior walls were also stucco, and in very good repair. Dobbs pointed to the beams in the ceiling and informed the girl the wood had come from cotton wood trees that had grown on the river that ran through the valley. "All materials were local… green before green was popular." He winked.

Jill moved into the kitchen space and drew a startled breath. It appeared as if someone had just been there. Pots of copper and iron hung gleaming from racks above. There were dried herbs hanging in the pantry as well. It looked as if it were just waiting for someone to come home. "Do the furnishings come with the place?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yep," Dobbs said taking a seat at the little kitchen table. "See the last feller who lived here…or rather didn't live here, left all this stuff…he had no family, no heirs, and we're not a big estate sale area…. So the furnishing go with the house….if you want to get rid of it or store it there's a storage barn out back…right next to the garage. Do you drive, Mrs. Rodgers?"

"Yes, I do… but I'll have to get a local license… I'm sure my international one won't do." Jill sat down at the table, took a little note book from her purse and wrote down some numbers and passed them over to the agent. "Here's my offer," she said in a business voice.

"Not a bad offer, considering." He read the numbers, and took out his cell phone. He pressed one key and waited. He looked at the face of the phone to be sure he had enough bars to get through. Once he did, he stepped away from the table to discuss the offer with the person on the other end of the line.

Jill looked at the generously proportioned room, and could see herself enjoying maternal life here. The house felt like home, something she had not expected. She looked over at the man who was obliviously taking care of her offer. She knew a thing or two about body language and from what she could read, things were looking up… She looked out the window to the back oasis garden and the little covered patio with its cottonwood furnishings. There was light at the end of the tunnel and she knew things were going her way.

Dobbs returned to his seat and smiled at her. "I just got off the phone with the bank in Elko, it's only a few miles up the road… and it's the largest town here." He folded his hands on the table. "They'll be expecting us this afternoon to begin the paper work."

"That's wonderful Mr. Dobbs," Jill relaxed and leaned back. "How soon can I take possession?"

"I'd say by the end of the week," Dobbs gave her a warm smile. "Mind you, that's barring any unforeseen problems with transferring funds…."

"I'm sure my accounts will be up to snuff," she promised.

Dobbs gave her a strange look, and then said. "You and this light house seem to be … what's the term…destined?" He shrugged. "In the last two years, you're the first person who even asked about it. Are you sure you want to live way the hell out here, in the middle of a desert?"

"Its heaven from where I sit," Jill assured him. "It will be a wonderful home, for me and my baby… and I'm sure my business will do well here… most of it is brokering by computer and phone…I don't need to warehouse, but if I did… the base room of the lighthouse tower would make an excellent space for not only storage, but showcasing."

"Still a woman alone," cautioned the elderly man.

"Oh I won't be alone," she promised placing her hand on her tummy. "And as you've said, Elko is only a few miles up the road….I suppose I should look into getting a jeep or something to rent until I'm ready to buy a car."

--

Two weeks later, Jill was sitting in the oasis garden as the sun set behind the mountains in the west. The desert had welcomed her, and the lighthouse was home. She sipped the herbal tea as she watched the shadows take on the hues of dusk. A figure coming from the desert toward her back garden drew her attention. It was a lone figure, female and dressed in ceremonial. Behind her in the distance stood others waiting with folded arms. Her face was peaceful, and her doe eyes assuring. Coming closer, Jill saw an object in the young woman's hand, a single eagle feather.

She stood on one side of the small pond, and looked at the girl on the other side. "Come," she said in a quiet commanding voice. "The elders await you." She turned and expected Jill to follow. At the edge of her property a circle had formed, and a small fire was being built. The woman with the feather took her place beside an elder. She motioned for Jill to be seated in a place that was open before she addressed her again. "I am Dancing Wind, daughter of Coyote Ghost Medicine man of the Shoshone-Paiute tribe here in the valley of the ghost ocean," she motioned to the elder. "I will speak his words for you. You have questions…"

"Why am I here?" Jill asked feeling out of place.

The young woman looked to the elder who spoke in his native tongue, and seemed to be in some kind of trance. "My father says you are here to be protected… we will act as guardians over you and the treasure you bear."

"Treasure?" Swallowing hard, Jill moved to stand up. "I have no treasure…"

The old man spoke again and the young woman halted. Dancing Wind nodded and addressed the girl. "He says to tell you he knows who you are, and that your secret is safe with us… as you and yours are blooded to us."

"Blooded?" Jill looked over at the medicine man. "How can that be?"

Pointing to the sky, the old man said something to his daughter. "He says your forbearer became one with the tribe of our people in the lost valley beyond the stars."

"The Piccaninny…" Jill gasped and felt her heart begin to pound. "How…no, this is not possible…."

The elder laughed, and instructed his daughter to speak again. "He says, anything is possible when one believes, Wendy Darling."

The old man stood up and moved around the circle to where Wendy/Jill sat. He knelt down and put a amulet about her neck. He said something the girl didn't understand, touched her check in a paternal manner and stood up. He walked away. The men sitting in the circle also stood up and left as did most of the women. Three women remained along with Jill Rodgers, Dancing Wind and two others.

Dancing Wind looked over at the bewildered young white woman. "My father says my sisters and I are to stay with you… we will keep your house, and tend your garden… and we will weave the magic that will protect you and the treasure."

"What treasure?" Jill protested.

"The child you carry… the child of Hook." Dancing Wind answered in her calm voice. "We will teach you, little sister, our ways… and we will help you in the birth… You don't want White Man's medicine for this… No White Doctor can be trusted to keep your secret…"

"I am Gray Dove," one of the women said as she stood up and moved toward Jill.

"I am Yellow Swallow, "the third woman said.

"I'm…. Jill Rodgers," Jill said firmly, as she stood up. She moved to dust her hands off but Dancing Wind stopped her and looked at the colored dust in her palm.

"You are Jill of the Red Hand…" the speaker for the tribe stated. "This is your totem… your own protection sign."

"Ironic," Jill said looking at her own palm. "But it feels true…." She walked slowly in the company of the Indian women. "Won't people think it strange that you've come to work for me? And how am I to pay you?"

"You will teach us," Gray Dove stated as if it were all decided long ago.

Jill stopped, looking at her companions. "What am I to teach you?"

"What ever Spirit tells you to," Yellow Swallow insisted.

Dancing wind took hold of Jill's dust stained hand, and placed it flat against the wall beside the doorway into the light house. "The sign of the Red Hand will act as protection…"

"You know who you are up against?" Jill questioned. "I don't like putting anyone else in danger."

"Spirit's plan is what Spirit's plan is." Gray Dove said as she and the last of the three maidens approached the house. "We will do as we've been led to."

Jill looked at her handprint on the wall. "Alright," she sighed. "Welcome to my home, my door is open to you… my sisters."

Dancing Wind nodded. "Tomorrow we will go to the reservation, and you will see Dr. Gray Elk…"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18. Wonders of wonders**

**Jill **awoke to find someone in her dimly lit room. "Whose there," she asked groggily.

"Dancing Wind," the answer was soft but clear. "You must get up, it is time to go."

"It's still dark," Jill moaned, she pulled the pillow over her head. "Go away."

A hand gently removed the pillow and pulled the woman upright. "Some things are best done in the dark." A shawl was wrapped about the woman, and her slippers placed on her unwilling feet. "Come, the elders have a car waiting."

It was not really a car, per say, it was more an old beat up frame of what had once been a car. It was wide open and there was a mat on the floor boards with blankets for Jill. She looked at Dancing Wind for a moment, but seeing the native woman was unmoved she allowed the three sisters to help her into the 'car'. The man at the wheel was one of the younger men who had been sitting at the tribal circle. He said nothing to her or the women; he drove to the reservation in silence, and parked in front of the reservation clinic.

Dancing Wind was the first to get out, she said something to the driver, he grunted and nodded, "Come Jill," she said to the woman still half asleep.

Getting out of the vehicle was more difficult than getting in. Making an effort, Jill at last managed to step down onto firm ground. "Where are we?" she asked her companion.

"The reservation," Dancing Wind announced calmly. "Gray Elk is waiting for you."

"Gray Elk," the woman repeated. "Who?"

"The doctor," Gray Dove said at her elbow.

"Oh," Wendy/Jill frowned, "Does he know who I am?" The three native women looked at her without answering. Jill shook her head, "Of course he does," she shook her head and looked down at her garments. "I should have dressed."

"You will be out of the Clinic and off the reservation before the sun comes up," Yellow Swallow assured her. "Come, we must move."

The office was empty; there was no receptionist, and no other patients waiting. Jill followed Dancing Wind and the other two women stood guard in the waiting room. The native woman led Jill to an examining room, there a man in a white hospital coat was filling out a form, he looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Little Red-hand," he addressed the woman wrapped in a shawl. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Jill answered with a smile.

He patted the examining table, and the girl complied by taking a seat. "How long has it been since you've seen a doctor," He asked as he listened to her heart beat.

"A couple of months I guess," Jill admitted. "I was going to seek a midwife."

Dr. Gray Elk nodded as he placed a hand on her tummy. "Well, before you engage one, let's just use the ultrasound to see what we have going on here, shall we?" The girl nodded, and with the help of her Indian sister lay back on the table. Cold jelly was smeared on her swollen abdomen and the doctor placed the probe on her. She twitched, and he apologized for the cold shock. He had already turned on the screen and was making a face. He took his time, while he charted the gestational sac. He looked at the screen, made a little face and moved the probe. "I'd hold off on the midwife," he advised.

"Is something wrong?" Jill asked becoming concerned.

"No, not wrong," he said in a cautious tone, "Just unusual." He looked at Dancing Wind, said something in their language and then moved the probe again. "I am going to modify the diet you've been on." He informed Jill. "Add some natural supplements, and herbs."

Swallowing hard, she repeated. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Gray Elk assured her with a gentle smile, but he said something to the native woman that Jill didn't understand. "I need a list of the prescriptions you've been taking." He removed the probe; he began to clean the jelly off her tummy. "Give them to one of your women; they will bring them to me." He helped the woman sit up. "I want you to keep up with your walking and with your daily routines."

"I walk every day," she said honestly. "The garden around the lighthouse is wonderful." She pulled her shawl over her shoulders. "What kind of herbs and supplements?"

"Local plants that are high in vitamins, some that will give you more calcium," he informed the mother to be. "Your records here will be registered under Little Red-hand."

"What kinds of plants," she asked.

"Some of the cactus that grows in the desert," he answered without hesitation. "They have fruit that is of great benefit to mother's to be. Flowers of local plants that make fine teas…."

"Anything else," she had the nagging feeling he was not telling her something.

"I want you to plan to come in at least once a week," he said cautiously, "For the next three to four weeks at least."

"Why," she asked as he helped her off the table.

"I want to follow your case closely," he said kindly.

"You're not telling me something," she whispered fearfully.

The Native American doctor smiled at her, "It is nothing for you to worry about," he assured her once more. "I would like you to bring any medical file you have in with you next time, so I can study it." He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "It's just a precaution Little Red-hand."

"Alright, but do we have to meet so early in the morning?" She asked.

"Safer with fewer eyes," he said honestly. "The government agency has a white nurse in here during office hours… and we don't want her knowing anything."

She nodded, "I understand, the fewer the better."

"Exactly," he agreed. "I'll see you next week at the same time," he handed some notes to Wind Dancer, "See to the additions to her diet." He turned to the woman once more, "Little Red-hand, I would have you keep to your normal routines. Attract as little notice as you can, and do not speak your tribal name outside the tribal circle."

"Silence can't hurt us," Wendy/Jill agreed exiting the cubical and moving to the care of the other two native women.

Wind Dancer read over the note handed to her by the doctor, her passive features didn't betray the concern she was experiencing. She hesitated, letting Jill move ahead of her. "She is correct, you are holding back," she accused Gray Elk.

"For now," he said watching the woman. "Do not question me on this, Dancing Wind." He warned sternly. "I have my reasons."

The woman's dark eyes remained serene, "I will not say anything, for now." She promised. "I will see to the supplements."

Gray Elk watched from the door of the clinic as they once more boarded the vehicle that had brought them into the desert. Dancing Wind had been correct, the sun was not yet up, and they were back on the deserted road once more. This time Jill was alert enough to look out at and see the beauty of the pre-dawn desert. The driver once more had nothing to say to the women, and drove on in silence. Once they reached the lighthouse, he sat silently in his seat while the women disembarked. After they had Jill and her blankets off the vehicle frame, he put the bucket of rust back into gear and drove back into the desert.

"Are you tired," Dancing Wind inquired as they entered the house.

"No, I'm hungry…" Jill announced.

"I will go to the kitchen and make you something to eat," Yellow Swallow stated as she moved toward the kitchen.

"Gray Dove," instructed Dancing Wind quietly. "You must go gather these herbs." She handed a list to the woman who wordlessly set about to do her given task. Escorting Jill to the garden, the woman said in a whisper. "Sit, watch the sun rise… and plan your day…"

Jill nodded.

--

James looked out onto London, it had changed over the years, but it was still London. He was staring at the silhouettes of the buildings in the sunset, the light fading and the room he was in slowly being plunged into darkness. He remained at the window, motionless. It was in this darkened room, staring blankly out the window, that Smee found him.

"Captain," Smee kept his voice soft, not really wishing to disturb his captain, nor to feel his wrath. "Would you like a light on?"

"I'd like," the voice that came out in a rasp was harsh and unpleasant, "To know where that blasted bitch has gotten to…" he slammed his prosthetic hand into the window frame, shaking the glass that was before him.

The bosun shrugged, "We've still got men out there looking for her sir."

James' hand lowered to his side, he turned red eyed and executed from his staring. "She's not here," he stated firmly. "I would feel her if she were… She's not here."

Smee was preparing to make some statement of support when the phone rang. He answered it and listened to the voice on the other line, "Captain," he cupped a hand over the phone, "Someone spotted her in Scotland!" He handed the phone to his employer excitedly.

"Tell me everything," rasped the hollow voice.

Smee watched the features of the King, he looked furious. "That was months ago," he growled. "And you just now tell me this?"

Seeing the call was not going as well as Smee had thought it would, he backed away. He knew that James had investigators and henchmen all over the United Kingdom looking for a sign of the missing Darling girl. He pitied them all if they had missed her, and allowed her to go deeper underground. His fears were justified, James Hook slammed the receiver back down into the cradle with a string of curses that would have made even a sailor blush. Smee stood silently, awaiting the order he knew was coming.

"We are going to Scotland," James glowered. "She's most likely gone, but that is where the trail takes us." He moved back to the dark window, looking out on the rooftops of the English City. "Lead me a merry race will you," he voiced the question, knowing no one would answer. "We'll see about that my~ Darling girl." He tapped the glass with his prosthetic hand. "Yes, we'll just see about that."

--

Gray Dove returned from the desert where she'd been gathering fresh herbs. "I have what you listed," she told Dancing Wind. "How is the lady?"

"Resting," the elder of the three women spoke. "I think we need to ask Grandmother Straw-reed to come," she looked at Gray Dove, "Would you go ask her?"

"Straw-reed?" her younger sister questioned. "She is no longer practicing as a midwife."

"Gray Elk is keeping something," Dancing Wind stated, her eyes filled with questions. "This is a woman's time and an old woman is needed."

"An old woman is here," a voice behind the pair announced, standing in the door way was a bent figure. Her old body was clad in traditional garb, long skirt, belted loose blouse, and sturdy boots. A shawl covered her head, protecting her from the elements. Her long braided hair was snowy white, and her skin weathered and wrinkled. Her dark eyes were full of knowledge and wisdom of age. "I had a dream," she told the astonished pair. "A hawk came to me and said I was needed."

Wind Dancer approached her, "Grandmother, welcome."

Though the old woman had never had a child of her own, every child and indeed every person in the tribe addressed her respectfully as 'Grandmother'. She moved past the two younger women and asked. "Where is Little Red-hand?"

"In the garden," Wind Dancer led the way.

The old native woman stopped the younger one before they reached the garden, "Go about your duties, leave this to me," she ordered. The younger one obeyed, reluctantly but she did obey. The elder moved on silent feet into the garden. "Little Red-hand, I am Straw-reed." She announced her presence to the girl sitting staring out at the desert. "I am here to give you guidance."

"Of course," Jill said resolved to the life unfolding designed for her. "Welcome to my home." She motioned for the elder to join her. "I was just contemplating the desert, its passive beauty."

"It is also passively dangerous," warned the elder. "There are many pretty dangers out there, Little Red-hand. Things that one does not see on the surface."

"Yes, I suppose there are," Jill sighed. She offered the older woman a cup of tea, and poured when the elder accepted. "So you were sent to guild me?"

"To give you guidance," Corrected the elder. "There is a difference."

"I suppose there is," Jill agreed. "Where do we begin?"

"He that seeks you will not rest," warned the elder.

Jill frowned, "I'm aware," she stated after giving her answer a moment's thought. "I will not be able to stay here forever."

"No, but you should let the desert nourish you while you are here." Straw-reed sipped her tea. "The women will see to your house, you must see to your babies."

A cracking sound accompanied the tea mug as it crashed on the stones of the patio. "Babies," Jill gasped. "More than one?"

Straw-reed nodded, but kept silent.

--

James stood on the platform of the Scottish station for a moment, "She was here," he rasped.

Smee ordered the collection of James' belongings and had them brought to the car his master had ordered. "Of course she was here," he muttered to himself. "The bloody dicks said she was."

James felt oddly at peace, just knowing she had been there. "Tell the driver I'll direct him."

"That's alright," the driver said with a smirk, thinking he was dealing with a loon. "I'll get you where you're going." His smirk faded quickly as James cast an eye his way. "Sorry sir," he muttered.

James coldly eyed the driver, "You can be replaced," he warned.

"Yes, sir."

Smee whispered something at the ear of James, and after receiving a cold stare himself, backed off. James moved to the car and settled in the back seat, he opened the window and looked at the driver, "Head to Market Street," he said after taking a long whiff of the air coming in the window.

The driver looked at him oddly, his eyes watching in the rearview mirror. "Market Street," he repeated as he engaged the engine. "Aye, sir."

James closed his eyes, allowing his sense of smell to direct him. As the limo approached the row of shops and hostels, James held up a hand. "Stop!" he ordered sharply, "here." He opened his eyes and looked from one side of the street to the other, his eyes coming to rest on the sign of the Inn. "The King's Crow…" he purred. "Thank you driver," he said alighting from the car. He looked at Smee, "Get our bags, we'll be staying here."

Without waiting the Captain marched into the Inn and up to the reservations desk. "I'll be needing rooms for a few days," he announced expecting to be served at once. The young woman behind the desk gazed at him in awe, and he gave her a smile.

"Yes, sir… name please," she turned on her charm, thinking the gent was just what she'd always been looking for.

James thought about it for a moment, "James, Rodger James," he announced coming up with the name on one of his many certificates.

"Mr. James," she passed the reservations book his way and requested his signature by handing him the pen.

Raising his right hand, the prostheses took the pen and he wrote in a very clear hand, 'James, Rodger'. He looked at the girl who was staring at his hand and mumbled; "Old injury."

The girl ran the desk bell and called a bell hop to help the gentleman's man with the luggage. She watched as the trio moved to the lift, then she looked down at the signature. "That's funny," she said aloud.

"What is," the manager asked as he returned from an errand.

"The gentleman who just signed in, sir;" She showed him the book. "Backwards his name is the same as that young widow's late husband. You recall the girl… Mrs. Rodgers," she mused.

"Serendipity," the manager said as he began sorting the evening post.

-

James entered the room, it was not the one used by his prey, but it was close enough for him to~ smell her scent close by. He opened the window and gazed out at the view of the sea and felt a strange power drawing him. "Ah the sea," he sighed leaning on the widow frame.

"Aye," Smee agreed from behind him. "Ye never forget yer first love, do ya?"

"First love," murmured James in a trancelike state.

"The sea, lover, mother, enemy and everything else in the world," Smee teased James mumbled something unintelligible, and Smee left him to his thoughts. An hour later he found the captain where he had left him. "Captain, would you like some dinner?"

"Yes," James answered, fatigued and lonely. "Do they have room service here?"

Smee looked at the information on the room desk and scoffed a half laugh as he read one of the pamphlets left there. "Pit-a-pan," he jeered and was about to toss the paper when it was snatched from his hands.

"Let me see that," James' voice bellowed. He looked at the name and whispered. "You wouldn't," he gritted through his teeth, as he read the tours offered. "Yes, you would," he crumpled the pamphlet. "Yes you most definitely would!" Turning to his manservant he growled. "WE are going to the orient. "

"You don't like the orient," Smee said a little too quickly.

"I wonder how she knew that," James held the crumpled paper tightly in his hands, his eyes beginning to shine with red light.

--

For three days Jill had not spoken to a soul, she kept to herself and walked in her garden. The three young native women kept the house, made the meals and cleaned up afterward. The old woman stood guard over the pacing lost soul in the garden. She kept the others at bay while the pregnant woman worked out what she'd learned.

Jill stopped pacing and looked to the desert, "He knows," she growled looking in the direction of the reservation. "Gray Elk knows."

"That would be my guess," Straw-reed answered.

"Why didn't he just tell me?" growled the pacing woman as her steps once more moved over the patterns of the tiles in the patio.

"Misguided concerns," the answer was soft, but firm.

Jill/Wendy moaned, "Three?"

"Three," came the reply.

"Are you sure," she questioned the old woman. Her answer was a smile and closed eyes. "Of course you are," Jill answered aloud for her own benefit. "That's just great, now instead of having to protect myself and one child, I have to protect three!" She held up a hand, "Why would Gray Elk want my medical records?"

"Something the white eyes missed," Straw-reed suggested still her eyes were closed. When she opened them she didn't look happy. "He has found your scent…"

"Blast," Jill muttered. "How long will I have?"

Holding up a straw fan, the old woman waved it in the air, in a sweeping arm movement. A wind came up that caused the dust and sand in the desert to spin in odd shapes. Straw-reed chanted, singing actually into the wind. She stopped and smiled at the girl. "We have time, Little Red-hand, we have time."

Jill nodded and placed a hand on her swollen belly. "Straw-reed, I don't know what you just did, and I don't care…"

"You will care someday," the old woman said in an all too calm tone. "One day you will need to call upon the winds…" She crossed her chest with the straw fan, and walked toward the desert where the winds were making the sand and dust dance in odd shapes. "One day you will go back to the stars…"

Jill watched her, "I've never been to the stars," she protested softly, she was about to protest louder when the little bag she wore about her neck seemed to move. Looking down she placed a hand over it, and took a deep breath. Without speaking she was beginning to understand. The old native woman had said she'd been sent to give guidance, and Jill knew that she had imparted to her a clue. She looked up at the sky, as the sun was beginning to set. In the darkening area there were stars already showing up. Jill/Wendy smiled. "I'm hungry, Straw-reed." She said more cheerily than she had said anything in days. "Let's have dinner." The old woman came out of the desert on the edge of the lighthouse property and nodded.

--

James was standing at the door of the travel agency before the staff had arrived. In his hand was the crumpled pamphlet. When the door opened he marched in and dumped the crumpled page on the desk. "When is your next tour to the orient?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19. Dead Ends**

James paced the floor of the room reserved in his name, Smee watched silently. For six weeks they had followed the trial, only to have it go dead time and time again. With each passing day, James ticked off a calendar, and counted the days until his son would be born. "I'll find you," he vowed menacingly. "When I do, I'll first remove my son from your arms…" he went on and on as to what he planned to do to the poor girl who had escaped his grasp for this long.

Smee, standing on the sidelines had seen the Captain pace this way before. He feared for what would become of the girl who had defied James Hook. Not that he'd ever admit it, most certainly not to Hook, or any other living being. Smee had enough self preservation to know that sympathy for the girl was a death sentence. He had enough knowledge of his master to keep his thoughts to himself, and to give the right answers when questioned. He knew that the mutterings his Captain was engaging in at the moment were private, and not an invitation to dialog. Silently he stood by, for when he was needed.

James was furious, and his brain burned with a fire that had no equal. He began to wonder if perhaps the doctor had been in on the escape, which he of course threw out as an idea that was preposterous. He wondered if Lizzy had held out on him, again he discarded the thought. No, this was the girl and the girl alone. He had underestimated her, and was paying for having been such a sap. He had been far too gentle, he now decided. He should have kept her locked in chains. He should have attached some king of homing device to her.

Even in his state of fury he could not dispense with an unusual urge to find her and force himself upon her repeatedly. He stopped pacing, closed his blue forget-me-not eyes and breathed slowly. He wanted her, in spite of the insanity she was causing him, he wanted her, desperately. He had never wanted anything or anyone like this before. Nor, he was sure, would he ever again. However he could not deny, not even to himself that James Hook wanted Wendy Darling. Not because she was carrying his child, although that made her delightfully bound to him. Not because she was named after his old nemesis, in spite of the pleasure that it gave him to taunt the old spirit that surely looked after her family still. No, all these were good enough reasons, but his own reason had little to do with any of that. He wanted her because she had awoken some long dormant spark within him. He had felt it that last night, when she had not resisted him. He was aware of it even now, with her so long away from him. He could still feel her, the softness of her skin, and the curve of her frame. He closed his eyes and her scent assaulted him, filling his head with longing and desires he had thought died within his heart long ago. He could taste her, still and it left him wanting more. James shuddered, shaken to his very soul, black and unused, but there. The blasted Darling girl had touched him where no one ever had.

His arms dropped to his sides and he opened his eyes, "Wendy," he moaned pitifully. "Wendy." He let his head drop to his chest and was a washed in the pain and agony of loss.

Smee looked at him with trepidation, not sure if he should approach or allow the Captain to just be.

James began to pace once more. He'd followed her, knowing she'd come this way. Step by step, province by province. Each time he came close, he could feel her, taste her, smell her… and then she was gone, elusive and intangible hard to pin down, impossible to be without. He had been with other women over the years, mostly whores, or victims of their husbands' and fathers' greed. No one had been like Wendy. No one had ever touched him. No one had ever given him a moment's concern, no one had been important enough to even remember their names or their faces. The face of Wendy Darling was imprinted on his brain and he doubted he'd ever forget the look in those blue eyes that last night.

James halted, looked at the window and in the reflection of the glass saw himself as he had never seen himself before. It wasn't just that she had run off, nor the fact that she was carrying his child. It was the girl herself he wanted back. James crumpled to the ground, letting out a blood curdling howl.

--

Gray Elk took Jill's blood pressure, "You seem a bit~ uptight, Little Red-hand. Is something troubling you?"

"No," she lied. She was keeping more and more to herself. Each pre-dawn visit to the reservation had become more and more silent on her part. If he was not going to share, why should she.

The Native Doctor put away the stethoscope, "It won't be long now, come solstice your babies are due."

"Will I carry to term; I know most women carrying more than one don't." She asked.

He placed a hand on her very swollen belly, "I see no reason why you should not," he felt the stirrings of life within her. "Your weight is good; you've kept up a good diet and exercised daily. I see no reason why you should not deliver right on schedule." He gave her a smile. "I have taken a leave, and will come to your light house a few days before the solstice. As far as the government is concerned, I will be on vacation, and my regular patients will be seen by my replacement. The council will convene at that time and the circle will sit until the birth."

"I feel like I'm not even really part of all this," she grumbled slightly.

Gray Elk having been scolded by her and the other women who were her companions shrugged. "It is not often that one participates in a clandestine event of this magnitude. Your part is not invisible."

"I'm just missing my family," she lamented. "I had always thought if I ever had a child, my mother would be with me… I have been away from them for so long. I don't even know if my father is still alive."

"We try, but we are not your family," the Doctor agreed. "Were it in my power…"

Shaking her head, Jill halted his words. "No, don't go there." She placed a hand to her belly. "It is what it is, and I'm grateful to be alive, and free."

Straw-reed, who had been with her during the examination, came closer. "We must go now, the sun will be up soon and the government agency people will be here." She helped Jill off the table and toward the door. "We will be expecting you, Gray Elk."

"I'll be there, Grandmother." He assured her as they walked out of his clinic.

Jill groaned slightly as they got into the back of a pickup truck. "Don't any of you own a real car?"

"No," the driver said in a monotone voice. "What would we do with one?"

Jill shook her head, she had known better than to allow the words to be heard. She settled into the rocking chair that Straw-reed had insisted upon. It was comfortable, well padded, and it gave her more support than trying to sit on the floor boards. It was barely sunrise when they arrived home, and John Two Eagles helped her to step down. "Thank you," she muttered as she waddled past him toward the house.

John looked at the old woman who was watching the young one. "She's not going to make it to solstice." He commented.

"Yes she will," was the old woman's reply.

The man shrugged, "Not by the looks of it."

"What do you know about birthing a baby," scoffed the old woman.

Seeing all the women look at him, and waiting for his answer, he shrugged once more. "Nothing," he admitted.

Straw-reed found Jill seated at the table eating her breakfast. "Everything is ready," she said taking a seat at the table. "Come Solstice, we'll be prepared."

"That's good," sighed Jill, "Solstice can't come fast enough for me."

Knowing the fatigue the woman was facing, Straw-reed wanted to be supportive, but she knew that other issues were more important. "It is what will happen after that you should be more concerned about."

Jill was so weary she wanted to weep, "How long do you think we'll have Grandmother?"

The old native woman didn't answer.

--

James stood in Singapore's Jade district, he could feel her, but not which way she went. Shop after shop seemed to hold her essences. Rooms of jade that seemed to intensify her quintessential spirit and heart tortured his very soul. He wondered if he would ever find her. He and Smee stood on the corner of a busy street. He could barely feel her, and in the next instant her scent would fill him. "Wendy," he murmured.

Smee was worried. There was no sign of the young woman. Not here, not in London, and not anywhere near her parents' home. She had vanished like smoke, as if she'd never existed. Smee kept track of the detectives and henchmen that James had moving all over the world. If anyone had seen her, they were not telling. Smee worried that this obsession was far worse than the one James had harbored toward a certain boy.

From London to Singapore, more than eight weeks they had traveled. In and out of the largest cities of the Orient, and still no sign of the elusive young woman. Smee wondered if he had imagined her existence, if the madness of the captain had become contagious. He looked up at James when he'd muttered the name. The face of his captain looked tormented, and pained beyond endurance. His skin so pale that Smee feared the man had died. Smee saw the shudder, saw the eyes of his captain roll back into their sockets as he cried out. James fell to his knees unable to breathe, and gasping for air. Violently his arm shot out and he grasped onto Smee.

"Captain," cried the man who would spend eternity with the man whose very name brought nightmares to little children. "Captain what is it?" Words would not come; the man convulsed and cried out as his body was racked by spasm after spasm. Time seemed to stand still, and at last the blue forget-me-not eyes closed. One last convolution and the body of James Hook fell limp. "Captain!" cried the little man holding onto the lifeless form.

--

Jill had never known such pain, not even at the hands of her captor. It cut worse than any knife, and her soul felt like it was in shreds. Gray Elk had given her a sprig of Mesquite, he told her to bite down hard as the pains increased. Outside the circle of tribal elders sat surrounding the fire that was not allowed to go out. Herbs and spices were tossed into the fire to create sacred smoke. The medicine man chanted and the elders repeated his song. Inside the house, the women busied themselves with woman's crafts to add to the protections being chanted by the elders.

The sun had reached its peak, Jill sat upright, snapped the twig in her teeth in two. She let out a painful scream and her first child came into the world. Swiftly Gray Elk handed him off to the arms of Dancing Wind to be tended to. A second scream heralded the birth of the second child also a boy. Gray Elk had barely had time to hand him to the waiting arms of Gray Dove when Jill let out another blood curdling shriek. This time a girl came into the world. Jill lay back, drenched in sweat and tears. Gray Elk made sure she was passing the placentas before he moved to see to the babies. Straw-reed bathed Jill's face with a cool cloth and told her she'd done a fine job. Her blue eyes looked at the babies being cleaned up and she lost consciousness.

Gray Elk checked each of the babies, and found them to be sound. He sat beside Jill, monitoring her. Her eyes fluttered open, "My babies," she rasped.

"All well, Little Red-hand," he assured her. "You may rest now."

She closed her eyes and let sleep come.

Gray Elk moved to the circle with the women and the newborns. He spoke to the chief and to the Medicine man who both gave blessings. The strong voices of the men of the tribe were joined by the voices of the women as they chanted. The Native doctor turned to Straw-reed. "She needs rest," he said passively. "Will she have time?"

"The trail has gone cold," smiled the old woman wisely. "He who seeks her will have to seek her still."

The doctor didn't argue, didn't question, he accepted the truth of the old woman's words. Grateful that his patient would be able to be at peace, at least for now, he accepted her words.

--

James Hook awoke in the bedroom of his rented suite. He felt like hell, no he felt worse than hell. Every inch of his body was wracked from pain, and he hurt where he didn't know a man could. He looked at Smee sitting over him, and held out his hand to the oldest friend of his live. "How long was I unconscious," he asked in a gasping rasp.

"Several hours, Captain." Smee whispered in answer. "They wanted to take you to a hospital, but I told them you had medicine for the convulsions here in the suite."

"Good thinking, Smee," he sighed. "Tea, Smee… good hot English tea."

"Yes, sir."

James pulled himself upright and felt his pounding heart. "My son is born," he said quietly. "I will find you, my son… and your mother too." He vowed. "I will have you back with me, Wendy Darling, if it takes the rest of your life!"


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20. Clouds and smoke signals**

She stood silently watching the three little ones as they slept peacefully. For three days now she had dutifully nursed each child, giving them nourishment but little else. She had not spoken a word since the birth; she had just done what was expected of her. Each time one of them needed to be fed, she did so. Other than that she had refused to even touch them, as if they were somehow contaminated. Now she stood, silently watching. Her three babies lay in their bassinets, sleeping peacefully. They were beautiful, and that disturbed her. She could have shielded her heart if they had not been so. Jill/Wendy was regaining her strength, and she stared down at the babies. What was she to do now?

"They must have names," Straw-reed moved to stand beside her. "Gray Elk has held off reporting the births as long as he can without attracting attention. You must name them."

"I cannot," Jill whispered hoarsely.

"You must," the old woman was not bending on this, nor was she willing to coddle Jill as the younger women were apt to do. "You are their mother."

Looking at the old woman with contempt, Jill rasped. "Not by choice," she looked at the babies, "Not by my choice." Her body ached, and her soul felt disconnected. "None of this is of my choosing."

"Stop pitying yourself," barked the old woman harshly. "You made a choice to keep them…"

Hanging her head, Jill began to weep. "Yes," she sobbed. "She looked down at the three little bodies sleeping peacefully. 'Was I wrong to give them life?' she wondered.

"Open your heart to them," suggested the old one. "They are your children…"

"They belong to him," she muttered darkly.

"Only part of them is him, the other part is you." Straw-reed declared placing a guiding hand on her shoulder. "Name them. Claim them and open your heart to them, raise them."

Jill nodded, conceding that it was indeed time, "Peter," she touched the first boy before moving on to her second son, "James," her voice quivered as she named the sleeping infant. She looked now at the little girl sleeping undisturbed sleep. "Wendy." She looked at Straw-reed.

The old woman accepted the names and smiled, "And so the Rodgers family grows by three."

Jill blinked, "He's expecting a single birth," she began to snicker, "He won't look at anything but boys being born…"

"These three," Straw-reed interjected, "Are being registered as reservation births." She cackled like an old crow. "Do you think he'll look at native births?"

"You're a crafty old woman," Jill said boldly.

"And you're a sentimental fool," the native old woman scoffed, "Giving them these names."

"What would you have named them," Jill taunted. "Marmaduke, Tiberius, and Olivia?"

Straw-reed cackled louder. The sound broke through the wall Jill was building and caused her to laugh as well.

--

James entered the rented rooms looking wan, and handed his jacket to Smee before heading to the window to stare out at the city he'd just wandered.

"Anything?" the little man asked hopefully.

"Dead end after dead end," James muttered. "The trail has gone cold; even her scent is faint… here." He wiped his brow with a trembling hand. "I've had detectives watching every hospital I can think of… and not a sign of her. It's as if she stopped existing." His eyes were bloodshot from worry and the strain of looking in every nook and cranny the old city had for the woman. "She's not here," he stated knowingly. "If she were, I'd have found her by now."

"Where do you want to look next," asked the bosun.

James looked over at him, "We're going home to London, Smee."

"You're giving up," the astonished man asked.

"Not by half… she'll need the comfort of family now," he gritted through his teeth. "Perhaps that stupid self centered bitch Lizzy can be of use once more." He shrugged, and then sighed. "Let's go home, Smee."

"Yes sir," the little man set about making arrangements for them to leave the Orient.

Captain James Hook looked out the window, cursing his bad luck, cursing the boy Pan, and most of all cursing Wendy.

--

Six months after the birth of her children Jill came down to the kitchen to find her native sisters upset, "What's wrong, are the babies…"

Dancing Wind answered for them, "Grandmother is leaving," she pointed to the pack that had arrived with the old native woman. It was packed and ready to go.

"Grandmother," Jill went to find the old woman, "Grandmother!" She called out briskly.

"Here," a voice beside the oasis pond called back.

Jill moved swiftly down the path of the garden to where the pond was. "Dancing Wind says you are leaving."

"I am," agreed the old one.

"Why," Jill knelt beside her. "Have I displeased you?"

"It is time for me to go," the old woman touched the younger one's cheek. "I have given you the guidance I can," she stood up. "The rest of the journey is yours, not mine."

"But…" Jill stammered. "I need you…"

"No," the old one said firmly. "You need only what I've given." She pulled her shawl up over her shoulders. "It is time for you to stand on your own."

"On my own," Jill looked down at the ground, "Then Dancing Wind and the others.."

"Will be with you as long as you have need of them," the old woman began to walk toward the house. "They are not guidance, they are help." She heard the soft cries of babies awakening. "And you have need of help," she cackled.

"I will miss you, Grandmother." Jill lamented as she followed.

"I will be by from time to time," Straw-reed promised. "You are family."

"If I need you, how do I call you?" Jill asked.

"Gray Dove will send up a smoke signal," teased the old one.

Jill snickered. "How will you know it's just not her cooking?" Both the old woman and the young one laughed. "Stay well, Grandmother." She bid the old woman goodbye.

"You too, Little Red-hand," nodded the elder as she picked up her bag and said goodbye to the others. "Stay well, children."

Dancing Wind stood beside Jill as they watched the old woman head toward the dessert. "She left you a present," Dancing Wind pointed to a bag on the counter.

Jill opened the rawhide pouch and looked inside, a sly smile crept to her lips and she closed the bag once more. "She's a wicked old woman," she laughed as she carried the bag with her and returned to the upper floor and the awakening babies.

--

James read the paper over and over; nothing seemed to pop out at him. He tossed the pages in his hand aside and grimly looked at the parlor. "Smee," he called out. "When is that blasted woman arriving?"

"In an hour, Captain." Smee answered coming in from the kitchen where he'd prepared tea for his master. "She was not happy about the invitation I can tell you!"

A smug look settled on the handsome features. "She will be even less happy when she leaves here." He stretched out, feeling pleased that he had at least one Darling under his thumb. "Did she really think she was off the~ hook," he snickered with maliciousness.

Smee shook his head, "Don't be counting yer chickens, captain…not until they've been hatched." He warned. "Miss Lizzy may not be so co-operative now she's married."

"She'll do as she's told," James declared darkly. "Or her sweet husband is in for a shock…"

"He knows she was~ fast and free with her favors," Smee argued. "It won't shock him."

"There are other ways to shock the man, and Lizzy now has reasons to hang on to him," James purred.

An hour later the blonde arrived precisely on time. Smee opened the door to her; she stepped into the penthouse with a grim expression on her face. Moving with purpose she walked to the room that James was occupying. "Before you ask," she said entering the room. "I have no new information for you. John and Peter and Michael have frozen me out." Pursing her lips in a thin line, she stated. "It's as if Wendy never existed, they don't even speak her name."

James lowered himself into a wingback chair. "You're telling me that they show no concern for her or the child she's delivered?"

"None," Lizzy huffed. "If they are in touch with her it's by some means I don't understand. No phone calls, no mail, no emails!"

Forget-me-not blue eyes with a lost and wounded gaze looked upon her, a hand raised up slowly and he dismissed her with a wave. "You may go." He whispered in a tortured timber.

Lizzy shook her head, "I would never have credited her with being this smart." She turned her back on him heading toward the exit. "To have beaten you, and without the help of Peter Pan…"

"Bad form," he whispered to himself after the woman was out of the penthouse, "Very bad form James."

Smee alone heard his captain's mutterings. It didn't surprise him, the captain often talked to himself. It was one of his quirks over the years, gave him an edge. Not to mention it scared the hell out of his underlings and his foes. The old bosun stood in the entryway, waiting and listening.

James covered his weary eyes with his good hand, "Wendy, where are you," he groaned.

Smee moved quietly out of the room, knowing his master needed a moment to compose himself. The next sound he heard was the crashing of glass and the breaking of furniture.

--

Jill Rodgers set up workshops for arts, she was settling into a pleasant existence. She knew to keep her family safe, all her family; she had to stay as far from the Darling's as was possible. No contact, not even a note. She even refrained from looking on line for information on the family. She put them as far from her mind as she could. It was the best way to keep everyone from harm. She celebrated her first year in the lighthouse; tribal elders came to set up a tribal circle at the edge of the property. Dancing Wind and her sisters watched as the men prepared the fire pit.

When the fires were lit, and the medicine man began his chant, little embers from the fire climbed into the night sky. "It looks like fireflies," Yellow Swallow mused.

Jill looked at the fire pit; standing on the far end she could see the outline of her lighthouse just beyond. "It looks like fairy dust," she corrected her native sister. "It's a sign," she mumbled. "A warning…"

Dancing Wind looked at her, "A warning," she looked back at the soaring bits of fire. "What kind of warning?"

The young mother placed a hand on her confidants arm, "It is best I don't tell you what I'm about to do. For your safety and that of the tribe," turning she headed to the house. "Keep everyone here, I'll be back."

The Medicine man began a new chant, Jill Rodgers moved into the dark house. She mounted the stairs, heading for her bedroom. Once in the room she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Lifting out the leather case, she opened it carefully, removing the contents. Three bags, all made of the same material. Identical in all ways, containing the same precious treasure, Fairy Dust.

For over a month now Jill had been planning on escape routes. If James came, no… when James came, she was going to be ready. Until this moment she'd planned on escaping on foot. Now she knew there was only one way to escape, and only one place her children would be safe. She carried the little bags up to the top of the lighthouse where the lamp was housed. Opening the lens of the now dark lamp, she placed the three bags of Fairy Dust. Shutting the lens again she was pleased to see that there was no visible sign of the magical substance, or the bags that held it.

When Jill Rodgers returned to the celebration she wore a confidence that gave her a powerful peacefulness. She was ready.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21. Faint scent in the air**

James paced his London penthouse parlor like a caged cat, with just as much bad temperament. Snarling and growling at any servant who dared to near him, including Smee. Each passing day that the girl was absent from him had only made his mood more violent. It had been well over a year since the birth of the child and the trail was as cold as icy waters. Smee watched as the man began to mumble to himself. The manservant stood back as the master paused and spun to look out the window, "Smee," he shouted not aware the man was behind him.

"Yes Captain?"

"We're going back to Scotland!" James stormed as he moved toward his bedroom, "Get packed!"

"Scotland sir," Smee asked timidly, "Why Scotland…"

"Her journey began there," James barked, "I must have missed something when we were there."

"Missed something?"

James' eyes narrowed, turning slightly red in the center, "Has this become an echo chamber, go pack!" The captain turned back to the window. He folded his arms over his chest and glared out the window. "Scotland." He said firmly.

Jill watched as her children took their first steps, she couldn't believe it was already a year since they had been born. The time here in the desert had gone slowly, peacefully. She was rested and restored. She had few regrets in having chosen going underground. One was that her parents were not aware of her location and had not seen their grandchildren. She couldn't even risk sending a picture to them. Jill was certain that the Captain was watching her parents' as well as her cousins' homes. The three native women who were more like family now had made up for the lack of family connection. As had Grandmother Straw-Reed.

John Two Eagles came walking across the desert wasteland at sunset one evening carrying something in his hands. His face was solemn as he entered Jill's garden. "I've brought the harness," he told her flatly. "I don't know why you asked for such a contraption. It's not good for a horse or a mule."

Jill took the leather reigns from him, "It's not for a horse or a mule."

The Indian man shrugged, "I made it the way you asked."

"You do beautiful work John," she said inspecting the leather work.

"Little Red-hand," his voice went more still than usual. "You've a plan?"

"Yes John, I do," she nodded.

Crossing his arms he stared at her, "I hope it works."

"Me too…"

James surprised his diver when he ordered him to take him to Kensington Gardens. Smee looked at his master as if he'd lost what was left of his mind. James ignored the pair, tapping his chin, and becoming determined. When the car reached the park the driver asked if James intended to get out. James closed his eyes, Smee told the driver to keep still. James' eyes opened, "Kensington Station," he said determinedly. The driver looked at Smee, shrugged and drove to the station.

James dismissed his driver, only Smee was to accompany him on this journey. Smee located a porter and had the luggage removed from the boot of the car. James moved to the ticketing booths, he looked up and frowned. He studied the destinations of the trains, his hooded eyes seeking the one place that would be the first destination of his prey. Then he saw it, as if it had been waiting for him all along, Penzance in Cornwall. He moved to the ticket booth, "Two for Penzance."

Smee heard the request but didn't bother to question his master.

James settled himself into his compartment, opened a paper and pretended to read it. He was actually mentally cursing himself for having been a captain who had underestimated one Darling. He had thought because she was young and not English that she would be easy pickings. He'd underestimated the strength of her Darling bloodline, and her Darling wits. He vowed not to make that mistake again. A grim smirk planted itself on his lips, he would have his Darling girl back once more, and when he did…

Smee sighed looking out the window and viewing the scenery. He wished silently that he Captain would just let go, give up this chase and accept that he'd been outsmarted by the girl.

Jill stood alone in the tower above her house; the light house lamp room was her special place. She had all her emergency equipment here, secreted away so that anyone who did venture up here couldn't see. The bags of fairy dust were safe in the dark lamp. The harness was now hanging on the wall like a decoration, mimicking a sail harness. "Think like a pirate," she told herself as she made sure of the latches on the hatch and on the door that lead to the little ledge that surrounded the outside of the light.

The sun was going down, and she stood a silent sentinel watching. Her hands gripped the rail, the wind was picking up as it often did in the evening. Over on the reservation there was smoke rising and she wondered if someone were trying to send a last minute signal, or was one of Gray Dove's sisters cooking. Soon the sky was a dark velvety blanket with stars shining. She looked up and found the one she was looking for, "Second star to the right, and straight on `til morning," she repeated the instructions as all Darlings would.

Leaning over the rail she looked down at the grounds surrounding her lighthouse. She loved this place, and was grateful for its solace. It had healed her wounded soul, and revived her spirit. Now more than two years since the abduction she was stronger thanks to her native family and she was grateful to them for having adopted her and the children. She vowed to enjoy what time she had left here, for she knew that the day would come when she and the children would have to flee.

She stood straight, looked up once more and whispered, "Second star to the right…"

Four hours after they had boarded the train, James and his manservant stood on the platform at Penzance. James moved to the information booth, "Where would one go to find solace and a good night's rest?" he asked politely.

"Sea view or not," the man in the booth inquired.

"Sea view," James said tentatively.

"Widow's Warf Inn," the man stated.

James requested the address and turned to Smee, "Get us a cab," he ordered darkly. To himself he was seething, 'Widow's Warf Inn, oh Wendy, you wicked girl.'

The man ignored the beauty of the town, and kept silent as they were conveyed to the hostel. When they arrived James left the luggage to Smee as well as the paying of the driver. He entered the inn and the scent of Wendy hit him like a ton of bricks. More than two years and it was still fresh here. He wondered why that would be as he moved to the reservations desk somberly. He politely spoke to the man at the desk, "A room please," he said reservedly.

The man looked up and gently replied, "How long, sir."

"Just the night," he said feeling that he'd have to move on quickly to keep the trail alive this time.

"Very well," the man behind the desk looked at the keys, "Room 206, it overlooks the harbor, will that do sir?"

James sighed, "That will do nicely," he reached forward with his right hand, the prosthetic hand and noted the man's expression change.

"War injury sir," he inquired politely.

James looked at the mechanical hand grimly, "Indeed." James looked down at the book and on a whim, just because the man had inquired about the injury James wrote, 'Captain James Rodgers' into the registrar.

"Captain Rodgers," the man seemed to stare at the name with a measure of recognition.

"Is something amiss," James inquired.

"Oh no sir," the clerk handed the keys to him. "The lift man will take you up." He pointed to the quaint little lift.

James had a feeling that there was something about his identity that had piqued the man's interest. Still he couldn't just stand there and demand to know what it was, so he moved to the lift being followed by Smee and the luggage. The lift operator politely announced the floor and opened the door to allow them to enter the upper floor hall.

James stood before the door and began to tremble, "Wendy," he whispered taking in a deep breath of the scent that he missed. Dazed he moved into the room, placed his coat on the bed and looked about, "She was here Smee, in this room."

Smee lowered the bags in his hands, "In this room?"

James nodded, moved to the window and looked out to sea, "Wendy…" he whispered entranced and entices by the scent of her. "You little minx," he chuckled, "You're thinking like a pirate." He chuckled out loud. "Well at last I understand your game," he nodded, "Too bad for you that I am a pirate." He turned to Smee, "This was where she made the choice to go on a long tour of the continent."

"She's a right smart little creature."

"I underestimated her," James confessed, "That's one mistake I will not repeat." He mused, "Shall we have some dinner?"

"Would you like me to order in, sir?"

"No," James said amicably, "There's a rather nice enclosed upper deck I noticed when we arrived. I'm sure it's got a wonderful view of the sea… I find the sea so calming."

"I'll call for your reservation," Smee said respectfully.

"Make it a reservation for two," James suggested, "I should like your company this evening."

Smee was momentarily taken aback, "My company sir?"

"Yes Smee, you may have noticed some things about Wendy that I missed," James explained taking a seat beside the window. "I should like to ask you some questions about her during our meal."

"Yes sir," the man nodded.

The restaurant was peaceful and pleasantly appointed. The enclosed deck gave a marvelous view of the harbor. James looked at the menu and wondered what it was his Darling girl had ordered. He was certain that she was following some diet that had been ordered for her at St. George's. Not being restricted to a diet he ordered a meal fit for a pirate king. He conversed quietly with his manservant during the meal. It was a lovely clear evening, and the view of the harbor lights delighted the Captain. "It's been too long I've been away from the sea," he mused lightly.

"Aye Captain," Smee agreed, "Can't get the taste of the salt spray out once you've had it."

James moved to the window to look out at the harbor, his mechanical hand toyed with the ring he wore on his left hand as he stared out the window. "Think like a pirate," he mused. "What would your next move be, me darlin'?" he asked quietly.

"That's an unusual ring," the waitress said as she came to see if he wished an after dinner drink, "I've only seen one other like it."

"You have," he asked, "When?"

"Oh must be two years ago," the woman thought back, "A young widow… she stood here gazing out to see…lost her husband in the war…"

"What did she look like," James asked pensively.

"A lovely little thing," the waitress said pleasantly, "Big beautiful blue eyes, dark black short curls, and a figure that was… well outstanding." The woman sighed, "She stared with such sadness at the sea."

"Do you recall her name?"

"I'm afraid not sir," the woman said, "But I'd remember that ring anywhere, it seemed so... unique." She looked at his ring once more, "I remember thinking I'd never seen anything so beautiful before, the work is so different."

"Indeed," he agreed. "Thank you, my dear… I think I will have an after dinner brandy, thank you again." He looked down at his ring, and was still staring at it when Smee came to his side.

"Is something wrong Captain?"

"So you recall when the lost boys pillaged my treasure," James asked. When Smee nodded James continued, "In that treasure was the mate to this ring," he lifted his left hand. "It would seem that Miss Darling is now wearing that ring and passing herself off as a war widow."

"But wouldn't she be recognized?"

"She's changed her appearance," James whispered. "Gone is the honeyed hair, and its length… she's sporting dark short curls." He chuckled. "Did you bring that computer you're so fond of?"

"I never go anywhere without it," Smee confessed.

"That picture of the girl that was run in all the papers when she was missing, would you have a copy of it?"

"Yes."

"I've a little job for you." James mused and thanked the waitress when she brought his brandy. Turning to the window he toasted the sea, "Blessed be the sea."

Jill sat quietly sewing; the children were playing quietly with gourds that the Sisters had dried. They tossed them back and forth laughing at the sounds the dried seeds within would make. She looked over at them every now and again, and would return to the sewing. Some time while she was working she found herself humming mindlessly. Having finished some of the items she paused and thought consciously of the tune she had stuck in her head. She stood up suddenly, feeling betrayed by her own mind that had tricked her yet again. She prayed that the song in her head didn't travel beyond her desert, and vowed never again to hum the tune of the Drunken Sailor.

James was restless as he tried to sleep; he kept hearing the oddest tune; odd because it was not his voice singing or humming but that of a woman. He sat up startled, "Wendy," he said aloud hearing the tune clearly. "Wendy!" he called out before it was gone. He couldn't locate the origin, but he knew the girl had been thinking of him.

He rose from his bed and looked out at the harbor, "Lead me a merry chase will you," he snarled. "You think what I've done to you is dreadful, well just you wait my girl… you've experienced nothing as yet!"

Jill paced the garden, wondering how much time she'd have before James located her. The children were toddlers now, and could walk freely about her garden. Mostly the three sisters who still lived with Jill ran after the trio, leaving Jill to run her business and teach her art classes. It had been a good life here, but she feared that life was coming to an end. She could feel James, knew he was thinking on her and with every fiber of her being she blocked his thoughts. Giving conscious thought to him would give him power, and the last thing Jill Rodgers wanted was to give James Hook more power over her.

The children had been listed as native births, and that had bought her time. She lived quietly, paying cash for everything. She wanted as little of a paper trail as could be had. But her freedom had come at a great cost. She had no family outside of the tribe that had adopted her. She had no idea if her father was still alive. She tried not to take notice of any announcements that were made about the Darling family. Even when the annual anniversary came up she turned a blind eye to it.

Pacing the garden she toyed with the wedding band on her hand, "Why couldn't you just leave us alone," she whispered. "Why did you have to have revenge?"

James rose before dawn, sat in the chair at the window and contemplated his next move. When Smee rose he found the master tapping his chin, "Would you like coffee, sir?"

"No," James answered quietly, "Smee, do you think you can morph a picture of Wendy Darling if I give you some changes?"

"I can try," the old man answered smugly. "I may not be a virtuoso," he mused, "But I'm handy and I do understand the morph program pretty well." He brushed his hair back off his face, "What did you have in mind?" His hands reached for his laptop set it on the desk and took a seat.

"Bring up that picture," James instructed thinking of what the waitress had said, "The colorized one," he added. He stood up to look over Smee's shoulder, wanting to watch as the truth unfolded to him. "Change her hair to short and curly, and dark, nearly as dark as mine."

Smee went into the morph program, his fingers flying over the keys with ease. "Like that?"

James stared at the pretty face that had a wicked aspect, "Well I'll be damned," he muttered. "That's the way Old Wendy had described Red Handed Jill," suddenly his head snapped to look at the window and the sea, "OH she wouldn't have."

"Wouldn't have what sir?"

James began to pace, thinking and then he growled, "Yes she would… because I would never have expected it."

"Expected what?"

Ignoring his manservant he continued to pace and think it out, "It makes perfect sense…" He turned to look at Smee, "I'll be a codfish!"

Smee was printing out the picture, a frown on his face, "Captain are you alright?"

James snapped his fingers, and reached for the picture as it came out of the little printer that Smee carried along with his computer. "Right before my nose, eh Darling girl?" he muttered darkly, "Well we'll just see who has the last laugh, my little minx." The smug laugh that emerged darkly from his throat was not a pleasant sound. It was threatening, and sinisterly menacing. His heart was beating faster with anticipation of becoming reacquainted with the young woman who had escaped his clutches, "It's time for you to learn more lessons," he crooned.

Jill shivered uncontrollably; she was relieved that she was in the garden alone. The last thing she wanted was for the little ones to be frightened. For her plan to work they had to think it was all a game. She twisted the ring on her finger and cursed her stupidity. She should have had one of the boys buy her a ring; taking a piece of the treasure had seemed harmless. Now she thought better of it as she stared at the circle of metal on her hand. He was thinking of her, she was sure, and the thoughts were not of the pleasant sort. But then she doubted that James ever had pleasant thoughts about her. Her thoughts of him were never all that pleasant, well except for a few that had cropped up here and there. Most of her thoughts on James were of keeping one or two steps ahead of him, "Think like a pirate Jill; just keep thinking like a pirate." She urged herself.

-  
James ordered Smee to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. He had suggested they skip having breakfast at the inn, and head straight to the station. Arriving with the early morning crowd James booked passage for two to Glasgow the next stop in the journey and where he had picked up her trail originally. He watched the countryside as it changed outside his window, winter was long over, and his child would soon be celebrating its second birthday. He wondered what his boy would look like. "Smee," he addressed his man servant, "Use that morphing program, combine my features and those of my child's mother…" he refused to say her name, least the Darling's had lookouts. "I want to know what our child looks like, make it age two…"

Smee nodded as he took his laptop from its case, "Easy enough to do," he assured his employer. His fingers moved over the keys, as they did, the two pictures on file were merged and then age regressed, "What sex," he asked as he entered the information into the program.

"A boy naturally," James said with utter confidence in his prowess.

The old man seated opposite him smiled gleefully, "A right nice laddie," he spun the computer to face James, "The spittin' image of his daddy."

"With just enough of his mother," James murmured, "Oh yes, that's my boy…"

Smee nodded and laughed, "Wonder what she named the little bloke."

"Matters not, once I've laid claim to him his name will be registered as James; perhaps I'll use her last name as his middle name and tempt the fates." James boasted. "I do believe he should have brothers and sisters, don't you Smee?"

"Captain you're wicked," Smee giggled.

James turned very sober, "I'll found a dynasty," he promised, "And all of them out of that girl."

Smee's smile faded, "You know who won't like that."

"Too bad," James growled.

Jill waved the children over to her, "Happy birthday my darlings…" she mused that she would never be able allow them to have the name but she could call them her darlings and be happy. "Mama has a game for you…"

Gray Dove frowned, "A game?"

"Yes," Jill said waving the native woman off, "A game just for the four of us."

"Little Red-hand," Yellow Swallow protested.

"Go about your work," she told the three, "Leave us." She kept her voice pleasant, not wishing to worry the three little ones. "Come on," she led them toward the light house, "The game is called to the stars…"

James stood on the platform, Scotland, he mused and the trail seemed warm as mulled wine. He mused that the girl had stood here herself. He tossed the news paper he'd been reading aside making note that it was the solstice. His child would be two today, he paused at a stand and bought a toy from a vender. Smee gave him an odd look and he said, "For the boy, it's his birthday." He saw a bracelet and asked the man for it as well, "For my wife," he said firmly when Smee frowned.

James tucked the toy under his arm and followed the scent; it was strongest by an information booth. He snapped his fingers and Smee handed him a copy of the morphed picture of how they believed Wendy appeared at the beginning of her journey, "I beg your pardon but have you ever seen this woman?"

The girl in the booth letting her fingers fly over the keyboard of her computer looked up. She smiled cordially, "Oh yes," she said in a pleasant tone, "I recall her… distinctive young woman she was… asked about the King's Inn…"

"Thank you," James said turning away, "I know the way." He motioned Smee to follow toward the taxi stands with the baggage. He signaled a driver who opened the boot and helped pile the bags in. "King's Inn my good man," James said firmly.

Jill laughed as the children followed her like little chicks in their harnesses. They were all attached and moving in a circle about the lamp. The only thing she'd planed today was to get them use to playing the game. To being strapped into the harnesses and following her lead. "To the stars," she spread out her arms and laughed joyously. The three little ones spread their arms and mimicked their mother.

James entered the inn as if he owned it, he approached the receptionist and wasn't surprised by the reaction he received, "Good afternoon," he addressed the flustered girl, "I was hoping you could tell me if you've ever seen this woman," he handed the morphed photo to the girl.

"Yes," she nodded, "That's Mrs. Rodgers… Mrs. Jill Rodgers." She looked up, worried, "Is she in trouble? She seemed like such a nice lady."

Thinking quickly he assured the girl the woman was not in trouble, "How long did Mrs. Rodgers stay with you," he asked carefully.

"Only a week," the girl looked up the record on the computer, "She was on her way for an oriental tour." She nodded as the information came up, "I believe she used the Pat-a-Pan agency," she wrote down the information. "Is there anything else sir?"

"Yes, my servant and I would like to book rooms for the rest of this week." James pocketed the picture and the information. "Are the rooms she used available?" Blushing, the girl nodded and booked him into the same rooms used by Mrs. Rodgers. Once in the rooms James sat on the bed, "Mrs. Jill Rodgers, cleaver girl, but not cleaver enough…Smee," he bellowed, "Get the owners of that travel agency on the phone!" He looked at the morphed photo once more. "I want to know every move that blasted Darling girl made… I'll track her down… and when I do…" His voice trembled, and Smee feared for everyone's safety.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Chapter in**_

__James closed his eyes, resting on the same pillow that had held her head so many months ago. He was thankful he was not a mere mortal any longer; life in Never Land had given him many benefits. One being an incredible sense of smell, he could still savor the scent of his Darling girl on the pillow. With his eyes closed, his mind focused, the scent was pleasantly distracting and his mind brought an image of her up. With gentle effort he was able to replace the image of the honey colored hair with locks as dark as his own. "What a striking couple we shall appear."

"Did you say something Captain?"

Forget-me-not blue eyes opened, "Just musing," he said gently. "Smee, have the owners of that agency called back?"

"No sir," lamented the manservant.

James looked at his wristwatch, "That's three hours," he said, "Call my business broker; I want to buy them out."

"That might take days," warned the old man. "Do you have a few to spar?"

Frowning the man shook his head, "No, I'm sure Wendy is already planning her next disappearing act… Don't we have an office here in Glasgow?"

"Yes," Smee took out his black book that held the names of all of James' holdings. "Buchanan and Ryan," he handed the number to his employer.

James dialed the number and looked to Smee who mouthed the word Buchanan to him, "This is Captain James Rodgers, calling for Mr. Buchanan, yes I'll hold." He looked at his manservant again who mouthed the word William, James nodded. "Will how good to talk to you again, how's the family?" he made a few moments of small talk. "Oh fine, fine, I was wondering if I could bother you to take an appointment with me this afternoon. Good of you… no I'd rather discuss this when I arrive, see you then." He hung up, "Smee, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Flounder," Smee muttered as he closed up his computer. "I'll order a car."

Jill saw smoke rising from the reservation, she headed to the garden where she knew Gray Dove would be, "Is it …"

"Grandmother," nodded her native sister. "She says trouble is coming."

"Tell me something I don't know," Jill mumbled.

"She says time is short."

Jill took a deep breath, "Well that tells us nothing."

"Grandmother is cryptic," Gray Dove agreed, "Short could be hours, months or years."

"I'm afraid I have to cancel my classes," Jill lamented.

Gray Dove disagreed, "And tip someone off that something is up?"

"Good point," The young woman sighed, "Business as usual."

"We'll keep watch for warnings," promised the Indian woman, "I suggest you play your game with the little ones daily."

James entered the offices that he'd only seen once, "Will," he shook hands with the senior officer of the office, "Good of you to make time."

"How can we be of help," Will Buchanan asked while he motioned for the man to be seated.

"I am in need of someone with unusual computer skills," James intimated.

"A hacker," Will said outright.

"Yes," James nodded, "I don't have time for the usual avenues of information."

"What kind of company," the man asked going to his own computer, "We've several good hackers on staff."

"A travel agency," James said, "The Pat-a-pan…" he noted the shift in Will's expression. "Is something wrong?"

"You own them," Will said firmly, "WE purchased them a little over a year ago, I was certain I informed you of that."

James chuckled, "I own them? No wonder the owners never got back to me…. Will I've been very distracted for quite some time, and I still need someone who can slip in and out of their records without alerting anyone."

"That would be Terrance," Will said and dialed a three digit number, "Come to my office, now." He looked at the man in the chair opposite him, "We'll keep this in my office, best to keep private."

James nodded, still amused that he'd had the ownership of that stupid little company for so long without realizing it. He sipped the drink he'd been offered and waited.

A few moments later a young man with a pinched up little face and glasses that looked the bottoms of a coke bottle stepped in, "You wanted to see me sir?"

Pointing to the computer he directed the man, "Slip in the back door of the Pat-a-pan agency."

Nodding the geeky little man moved to his station, his nimble little fingers flew over the keys even faster than Smee's. James watched him with interest as he brought up the company's inner most workings on the screen, "Which records do you need?"

"A passenger's records from two years ago," James said flatly, "A Mrs. Jill Rodgers."

The young men keyed in the name, "I have her itinerary," the information flashed up on his screen, "I can print this record out of her route and the scheduled stops including her hotels."

"And no one will ever know you did," James asked now standing behind the man.

The young man shivered involuntarily, "No sir," he whispered knowing he was in the presences of something powerful. "No one will ever know." James bent close and whispered something in the young man's ear. The geeky little man swallowed hard, "I promise you sir, no one will ever know."

James placed his mechanical hand on the boy's shoulder, "Print the information and forget you ever had it." He warned.

William frowned, "Captain…"

James shook his head, warning the senior officer not to continue, his fingers remained firmly planted on the younger man's shoulder. "Find out who her room assignments were with." The frightened young man nodded nervously.

James looked at the quiet Scottish countryside, and the little houses that were on the outskirts of Glasgow just before Paisley. The cottages were charming and seemed from a time long gone by. He glanced down at the bouquet he'd ordered before they headed to the address that Terrance had located for him. Birds of Paradise, his signature flower. Only the finest would do, and today he hoped they would charm the old woman who'd shared accommodations with Wendy.

The cottage was neat as a pin on the outside, perfectly manicured garden and showing no signs of its age. Lacy curtains hung in spotlessly clean windows, and James admired the view for a moment. He carried his peace offering to the front door and tapped the knocker three times. Smee waited in the car as he'd been ordered to do. Moments later a woman in her late forties came to the door and looked down her long crooked nose at the man, "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for Mrs. Mable McKenna," James said politely, but finding his patience limited.

"My mother isn't receiving," the woman said almost in a snarl. "Be on your way."

"I'm sorry," James said holding his temper back, "I was informed that the Widow McKenna enjoyed visitors." He offered the bouquet to the odious woman standing in his way. He was half tempted to shove her aside and barge in. "Would you please present these to her and ask her when she'd be up to visitors?"

"I'm up to visitors now," a voice said from within the parlor, "Kathleen, show the gentleman in."

Kathleen McKenna stepped aside and motioned James to enter. He saw a woman in a wheel chair in the parlor, "Mrs. McKenna?"

"Yes young man," she smiled but her eyes were not focusing, "Do come in," she sniffed the air, "Flowers?"

"Birds of Paradise," he said placing them in her lap, "I hoped they would give you pleasure."

Her gnarled fingers moved lightly over the blooms, "They do indeed… To what do I owe this honor?" She motioned her visitor to be seated.

"I'm looking for information on a young lady who traveled in your company about two years ago, a Jill Rodgers." James said taking his seat.

"Ah the poor wee widow," the old woman shook her head piteously, "Shameful the way her in-laws treated that poor wee child…" her face hardened. "If you're from them, I'll not be saying a word against her. She was too good for them, and I've stopped using their jewelry services."

"Then you do know her," James said hopefully, edging forward.

Mrs. McKenna's demeanor shifted, she went from a soft spoken and gentile elderly woman to a battle ready Scot's in the flash of an eye, "Who are you?" She demanded hotly.

"My name is Captain James Rodgers," James watched shock register on the woman's face. "Jill is my wife…"

"She said you were dead," the old woman gasped, wondering if a hoax was being played.

"I was mistakenly reported as dead," James said with gentleness, "My family took advantage of that situation in an effort to rid them of Jill… When I returned I found her gone, and it's taken me this long to track her down." He edged forward, "You're my last hope Mrs. McKenna; please… can you tell me anything about Jill's last days in Singapore?" He reached out with the mechanical hand, hoping it would be just the right touch.

The elderly woman looked at the hand that was not human, "Oh my," she gasped, "You are Captain Rodgers?"

"Yes, ma'am I am."

"Your family treated that poor girl wickedly," she admonished him icily, "How do I know you're not going to make matters worse for her?"

"I give you my word of honor," he said boldly, "I shall not treat her as my family did." He softened his tone, "All I want in this world is for Jill to be with me again."

The old woman leaned forward, "Young man, I'm afraid things are a bit more complicated… you see your wife was with child when you … were reported dead."

James feigned shock and surprise, "She… was?"

"By now you're child is perhaps two years old…" she warned and composed herself once more, "Jill Rodgers was a very sweet girl, and was heartbroken by your reported death. She mourned you deeply."

James stifled the urge to laugh in the woman's face, "Jill and I had a very deeply emotional connection. I was in hospital for a very long time, unaware of who I was. When the dawn of awareness returned Jill was the first person I asked about. That was a little over a year ago, and I've been searching for her ever since." He kept his features schooled.

"Your family…"

"My family is no longer a part of my life, I've separated from them." He informed her strongly. "Jill is my family…and I won't rest until I have her back in my arms." Even James himself was surprised by the fervor with which the words had come out.

The old woman smiled, "I want to believe you Captain Rodgers." She settled back into the pillow behind her, "I'm an old romantic fool…" she sighed. "I know that Jill couldn't depend on your family for anything, they more or less told her that they had no intentions of even acknowledging that you were even married."

"Our marriage," James said quietly, "Was spontaneous, and our time together was rather short."

"Long enough to get her with child," countered the elderly woman.

"I won't deny the passions I felt for Jill," James said with a stiffening jaw. "But I won't sully them by airing them either."

Mrs. McKenna chuckled softly, "I would expect no less from a man of your social rank Captain." She smiled serenely, "You love her very much, I can tell… my eyes may be failing me, but I can still see with my heart… I will tell you what I know, but I don't know if any of it will be of help to you."

"I'm grateful for what you can give me," he assured her.

"Jill Rodgers meant to be independent," the woman said boldly, "Since the Rodgers clan wished to have nothing to do with her; she intended to extend to them the same courtesy. But since she already had a reputation in the Jade district and contacts she intended to use them and to rebuild her personal business."

"Jill met with Jade traders," James knew this already but had to make it sound as if he were learning it for the first time. "Did she meet with them under her maiden name?"

"No," the elder shook her head, "She was very proud of being Mrs. Rodgers… toyed with that ring constantly."

"A nervous habit," James mused.

"Indeed," agreed the woman. "She made her arrangements with several of the more reputable jade men, and then she left the tour a day before we were to return to Scotland."

James stood up, "I want to thank you for your time, Mrs. McKenna… you've been very helpful."

"I don't see what help I've given you."

"With what you've told me I can go to Singapore and locate the traders who deal with my wife… and from them I will learn her location and we and our child will be reunited." He bowed over her hand that he'd raised. "I am eternally grateful to you."

"Do give my love to dear Jill when you find her," the old lady cooed.

James smiled, "It will be a pleasure."

Jill was now making sure the children played 'To the Stars' every day. Each time they played it got easier for the children to get into their harness. She needed for it to be second nature to them. Biting her lower lip she knew she had to go a step further. Watching them sit with their feet in the water of the pond she came up with an idea. Jill took a seat and stuck her feet into the waters as well, "Peter," she said in a very quiet tone, "What's the loveliest of thoughts that you have?"

"Doggies…" Peter said excitedly, thinking his mother was going to surprise them with a gift.

"Kitties," argued little Wendy.

Flinging his arms wide, little James crowed, "Cookies!"

Jill chuckled, "I like all of them," she praised. "Good happy thoughts." She brought her foot up and sent a tower of water upward.

James sat in quiet contemplation as the private jet winged its way to the Far East. He was much closer than he'd been in three years to his goal. The woman parading as the widow Rodgers was in for a violent surprise. He would swoop down upon her and the child, and have them both. He could just image her face, those wide blue eyes like the sea at peace. Her tempting lips… her long beautiful hair… no, he corrected himself. The bitch had cut her locks off to throw him off. It infuriated him that she'd desecrate her crowning glory. Worst still she'd committed sacrilege against nature by dying her honeyed locks nearly black. He had difficulty in picturing her and pulled out the morphed photo once more. Staring at it he began to memorize the changes finding them not really all that awful. No matter what color or length her hair, Wendy was a handsome woman and James found himself longing to be in her presences once more.

Smee sat in a solitary corner working on the laptop while his captain was lost in thoughts. He had been given the task of locating the better jade traders, and was correlating their locations to the places that he and the captain had visited before. Some of the names were familiar, one stood out from all the rest. Smee glanced over at his captain; he almost wished he could purposely leave this one out. This fixation with the Darling girl was dangerous; sooner or later that blasted boy was bound to take notice, wasn't he?

"Captain," Smee addressed him respectfully, "What do you intend to do when we find Miss Darling?"

James was staring off into space, "Do?"

"Yes sir, what do you intend to do?"

A wicked grin came to his lips, "First I shall claim my son… and then…" he chuckled.

"Must you tempt fate?"

The man with forget-me-not eyes glared at his manservant, "The Pan has forgotten and forsaken the Darlings. Wendy Darling belongs to me." He growled darkly. "And what is mine, I keep." He turned away. "My plans for her do not concern you Smee so don't interfere." Flexing the fingers of the mechanical hand he glowered. "We are closing in… and soon my Darling girl will be within my grasp once more."

"Yes captain," Smee nodded sadly as he looked at the names he was about to print out. Wanting to leave off the last one, but fearful of doing so, Smee pushed the button that would activate the printer.

Jill counted hours and days, he was getting closer. She added a few things to her scram gear in the tower of the light house. Day or night she wanted to be ready to flee. While she kept her classes running she made sure that all her students understood that there would be times when she'd have to cancel without explanations. From time to time she'd go to the tower after she'd kissed her brood goodnight. She would stand looking out at the missing ocean, or the stars and a shiver would run down her spine as a voice in her ear called her by that other name. She looked up to the stars and whispered, "Stay away James, just stay away!"

James looked out the window, a cruel smirk curled his lips, "I'm coming for you my Darling girl… you are mine."

The private jet landed, and government officials come to meet the important man who was exited the plane. He was to be escorted by these officials into the Jade district. James looked at the list that Smee had printed out, his eyes resting on one name. He turned to the official seated beside him, "This one." He said darkly.

The official nodded and told the driver where to go.

__Jill paced her garden while the children played the word game of happy thoughts. Her native sisters watched over her brood as her mind was occupied.

The car came to a halt; James stepped out after the official. His hand halted the man's steps. "No," he growled, "I do this alone."

"But sir," the man said in a heavy accent, "The man may not understand English…"

"Alone," the forget-me-not blue turned red. When the official nodded and stepped back James released his arm. Purposefully he entered the building, and looked at the girl who was at the desk. "Where is he," he demanded. Fear showing in her eyes told James that she understood who he was speaking of. She pointed to a curtain and James walked past her. His hand drew back the curtain, "Where is Jill Rodgers," he demanded not making small talk or polite conversations. "Tell me what you know."

The old man seated in the chair looked up at him, "She will not be there when you arrive."

"You plan to warn her?" James mechanical hand flexed dangerously; "That would be very foolish of you."

Shaking his head slowly the old man had a serene expression on his lips, "I have no need to warn her." He pointed to the coins that lay on the table before him, "She already knows."

"I-ching," glowered the man with dangerous eyes. "What does it say?"

"It says that she has known your moves from the start," the elderly Asian murmured. "That she has been ready for you."

"Where is she old man," James brushed the coins aside, "This ruse will not save her."

"Nor you," warned the old man, "Your fates are cast in the stars… but if you must rush to the end… she lives on a ghost ocean, in a house of light."

James pulled his hand back at the cryptic words, "A ghost ocean?"

The old Asian nodded, "She knows you are coming, and prays you will not."

"I am her destiny," James boasted, "And her destruction for having defied me."

The old man sighed, "As she is yours."

James crossed his arms, part of him wondering why this man didn't fear him or the government officials outside his door. "You will not give her warning," he commanded.

"I have no reason to warn her with knowledge she already has."

James thinking he'd had the last word turned and left the building, once out side he commanded the official. "Shut him down and detain him and his family."

The official nodded, and ordered the armed guards with him to enter. They heard shouting, and then silence. The guards exited the building looking as if they'd seen a ghost. The official entered, then came out just as shaken and looked at James, "They are gone."

"Gone," barked James, "Did you have no one on the rear exit?"

"There is no rear exit," the official said, "No trap doors… nothing…" He moved to James extending his hand, "There was only this."

James took the coins and studied the shape that was imprinted on it. Two star shapes, the one on the right larger and more pronounced, and below the opening a tall ship with sails billowing. His hand closed, he growled, "To the air port!"


	23. Chapter 23

_**Chapter 23. To the Stars**_

A cold icy wind cut into the warm desert air as the sun began to set and Jill's eyes filled with alarm as she looked at the western skies, "He's coming," she whispered to herself. Composing her thoughts and schooling her features she looked at her three babies. "Time to play," she told them brightly, "Come with mama…Follow the leader!"

Gray Dove looked to the skies over the reservation; she saw the smoke begin to rise. First one pillar, than another, and another until the skies above the reservation was filled. She began an ancient tribal chant, one that her sisters quickly picked up. She didn't stop the woman who like the piped piper was leading her children to the building of the light house. Dust like a plume rose from the vehicles racing across the desert floor. The three sisters knew that the vehicles couldn't belong to members of the tribe, they had to be enemies.

Jill locked the door of the base of the light house, ushered the children into the lift and headed for the top floor. Once there she set the block in the door so it couldn't close and it couldn't go down. She motioned the children up the steps to the hatch that opened to the lamp room. She followed them, and once they were all inside she closed the hatch and set the lock. She too could now see the dust trails of the jeeps that were racing to her home. She took a deep breath, "Everyone into the harness," she clapped her hands and painted on a happy face.

The three youngsters now use to getting into the leather yoke that connected them together did so with practiced ease. Jill made sure all the buckles were buckled before she slipped into her end of the harness. Moving to the lamp she opened the compartment that held her secret treasure; treasure that had been handed down to her from the Wendy and the bag from Grandmother Straw-Reed. She lashed the extra bags to her belt and opened the first bag, sprinkling the dust upon her children she chanted.

"_**Come with me where dreams are born,**_

_**and time is never planned.**_

_**Just think of lovely things,**_

_**and your heart will fly on wings,**_

_**forever in Never Never Land."**_

The children's eyes widened as their mother spoke the words that were filled with enchantment. She smiled at them serenely, "Peter, what's your most pleasant thought?"

Peter whispered, "Doggies," and rose into the air giggling.

Wendy cried out "Kitties!" and she too rose.

James laughed, "Cookies!" and up he went.

Jill flung open the lamp window to the outer rim, "Freedom," she cried out and rose as well. "Come on children," she trumpeted loudly, "To the stars," she spread her arms like wings and rose into the sky with three children trailing behind her, "Second star to the right, and straight on `til morning!"

The three Indian women were sitting chanting and weaving when the men rushed into the parlor of the house belonging to the Widow Jill Rodgers. They did nothing to stop the men, they only continued to weave. James came in sniffed the air and glared at the native women before he turned and followed the scent that was leading to the base of the light house. "Break down that door," he ordered his men, "Hurry," he urged.

The burly men that James had brought with him asked no questions, they knew it was in their best interest not to. The attacked the door, breaking it into splinters and moving into the rooms at the base of the tower. James sniffed the air and motioned upward. One of the men told him the lift seemed to be disabled, and James pointed to the winding stairs that spiraled up to the upper level of the tower. He moved to the stairs and began to race upward, some inner sense telling him that his Darling girl was well aware that he had arrived.

"There's no hurry," one man huffed as they moved upward. "There's nowhere for her to go."

"Fool," cursed James as he moved even faster, "You've no idea of where she could go." He trembled down to his soul, "But I do."

They reached the hatch to the lamp room, it held tight. James ordered it too destroyed. The cotton wood hatch shattered like glass, the shards flying everywhere. James pushed the men aside and made sure he was the first one into the lamp room. The empty lamp room. His forget-me-not blue eyes saw the open glass door to the outer rim and a cry of anguish came from his throat. "Wendy, no!"

He moved with feet like lead toward the catwalk, looked up to see a streak in the darkening sky, "Wendy!" he cried out.

__Little Wendy Rodgers cast a glace back toward the ground, "Mother, someone is calling my name." she said in curiosity.

"It's just the wind howling my little darling," Jill assured her as she perfected her flying ability, "Come children, follow the leader!" She didn't look back; not wishing to see what she knew was behind her.

James gripped the rail of the banister about the catwalk, anguish and fear filled his being as never before. "NO," he railed, "No!" James found it hard to breathe, as if someone had sucked the air from his lungs. "No my darling girl," he wailed.

The men stayed back fearful of the rage that was to come. From the air port to the desert he had been most descriptive as to his intent. Now with the girl having somehow escaped him he was sure to vent that rage on someone or something. With superhuman strength he ripped the rail up from the banister and began to twist the metal. The men pulled back and began to move down the stairs as discreetly as possible. James seemed oblivious to their flight as he raged at the woman who had fled him.

It was dark when he descended the stairs of the lighthouse tower; his men were gathered in the room at its base. James eyes were red as blood, his face white as a sheet and his jaw was locked. He glared at the men who were gathered in fear but said nothing to them. He looked at Smee who was coming toward him urgently. "We're going home," he snarled.

Smee had a cell phone in his hand, "Captain, beg pardon," he moved closer holding the phone out to James, "I think you might want to take this call…sir."

James removed the item from the man's hand, he took a cleansing breath and growled darkly, "What is it?" not bothering to ask who was calling him at such a moment. His face lost the look of dark anger and became concerned, "When?" the man on the other end gave him information and James nodded. "Tell the doctors I'm on my way." He looked at Smee.

"I've called the jet and alerted our pilot that we will be heading to the Midwest." Smee informed James quietly. "Our driver is ready to take us to the airfield."

James looked about the room, still angry but needing to take care of events that were unfolding. He would have loved to order the men to destroy the tower, tear the house timber from timber, and kill the native women. However he suspected that while he and the men were racing to the empty tower the women had quietly moved out of dangers way. He looked about him; he had been defeated once more by the Darling girl. "We're done here," he said, "Go back about your normal work." The men stared for a moment and then quickly departed without question. Smee followed James to the limo where the Captain was settling in.

Jill kept careful watch over the little ones as they rose higher and higher. Nothing she'd read or done had prepared her for the exhilaration of flight. Never the less there was no shirking her duties as a mother, she had to insure that the children were safe. There was no room for giving into the urge to forget everything and enjoy this wonderful experience. Once or twice she checked the tether line, making sure each child was secured to the harness.

They neared a glowing barrier, and Jill focused her thoughts. Only the happiest of thoughts would get them past the obstruction that acted as a barricade between the world of the Fairy and the world of man. She wasn't worried about the children's thoughts, for the thoughts of the very young were often the most pure. She focused on freedom and on keeping her babies safe. The fabric tickled as they went through and the children's laughter sounded like the tinkling of little bells.

The view of the Fairy Lands was breathtaking, and Jill followed the directions that Great Granny had given her over and over during her visits. Her mind focused on the passage to the secret island that lay in a placid sea. The scents that rose to her filled her mind with images from her childhood. She could hear the waterfall, even smell it long before the island was visible. She had no idea that it was going to be so vivid. But it was everything Granny had said, and more.

"We're here," she said to the children as they flew over the Mermaids inlet with its rock formations and peaceful waters.

"Where's here?" Peter asked.

"Never Land," Jill answered heading inland, she didn't move toward where the new colony of lost boys had built their tree-house hideaway. She kept a good distance between her and the Pixie Hollow. Just as she kept a safe distance from what was left of Pirate's Cove. Between Pirate's Cove in the south and the Indian tribal lands on the western coast lay the area that Granny had talked about most. It was there that Jill was in no doubt she'd what remained of Wendy's house and the house underground. "Down we go," she said to her little ones.

Jill's feet touched ground first. It felt oddly familiar even though Jill had never been one of the girls in the family to venture here. She watched her little ones float gently to the ground and land as if they had been flying from the moment they had been born. She unbuckled each child and looped the leather harness to carry over her arm. "Wendy's house is right ahead," she said.

"My house," Wendy gasped.

"No dear," Jill chuckled, "Wendy Darling's House."

"Wendy Darling," the little girl frowned, "Who's that?"

"A wonderful woman, who had many adventures here," Jill kept her tone cheery. She took the lead and led the children through a path that if you didn't know it was there you would have missed. The flora and fauna had grown a great deal since Wendy or any of her descendants had visited. As far as Jill knew Margret, Wendy's granddaughter and the mother of Cousin John's mother Sarah, had been the last of the Darling's to visit Never Land. Peter had not come when Sarah had been a girl of the right age. Just as he had not come when…; Jill's steps faulted and she warned herself not to think about the dark and dangerous pirate.

"There was once a group of little lost boys who lived in this glade," Jill said making herself remember the story. "When Miss Wendy Darling came for her visit they built her a lovely little house," she purposely left out the part of her Great Granny being shot with an arrow by one of the boys. "It was just the tiniest little house, with funny little red walls and roof of mossy green. A hat was used as a chimney and a slipper was used as a door knocker."

"Is that it," James cried out seeing the peak of the roof showing in the tall plants.

Jill sighed, "That would be it," she agreed. "Now listen carefully, Wendy's house has a secret," she put her fingers to her lips and in a hushed tone she told them, "There's a special hatch that will take us to the underground rooms that we'll be using." The three clapped their hands, and Jill motioned for them to follow closely.

The little house was nearly covered by the leaves of what looked like elephant ear plants and the largest hostas she'd ever seen. The roof blended in with the greenery, only the stovepipe hat gave away that there was a structure here. Jill didn't worry, she had no intentions of using the hearth in Wendy's little house. Only when she had the children safely secure in the underground rooms would she worry about the need for a fire. Jill opened the secret hatch that led to the winding root stair, the root of a large Nevertree had formed this wondrous feature over a hundred years ago, and it was still useable.

"_**The underground house was cozy, it consisted of one large room, as all houses should do, with a floor in which you could dig for worms if you wanted to go fishing, and in this floor grew stout mushrooms of a charming color, which were used as stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in the centre of the room, but every morning we sawed the trunk through, level with the floor. By tea-time it was always about two feet high, and then we put a door on top of it, thus becoming a table; as soon as they cleared away, the boys sawed off the trunk again, and thus there was more room to play. There was an enormous fireplace which was in almost any part of the room where you cared to light it, and across this I stretched strings, made of fiber, from which I suspended our washing. The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and let down at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys slept in it, except Michael, lying like sardines in a tin. There was a strict rule against turning round until one gave the signal, when all turned at once. Michael should have used it also, but he was the littlest, and the short and long of it is that he was hung up in a basket."**_ Great Grannies words filled Jill's memory and her heart.

The room was still large, and the fireplace was there. Mushrooms still formed stools, and on the back wall was the bed. There were other features that Granny had left out, although that Never Tree had given up trying to grow and now was a permanent table in the center of the large room. On the dirt walls were odd bits and pieces of childish artwork. Drawings that had names attached. One read Wendy, another read Jane and one read Peter. Jill wore a wistful smile as she inspected them. One thing Granny had not spoken of was of the glowing little baskets that seemed to burst to life the moment someone entered the cozy little home.

Besides the things that the lost boys and Peter Pan had left behind there were bits and pieces of Wendy here. A sewing basket, a wash tub, and some oddly shaped cooking gear that had been made of clay and gourds. Closing her eyes Jill remembered what Wendy had said about there being an odd little spring in a rock basin at one end of the large room. She knew she'd find a bucket there when she opened her eyes. Moving toward the sounds of light water trickling, Jill understood that this house like most of Never Land was subject to the Fairy Magic of the Pixie Hollow. Believing was everything here. Because she believed what Granny had told her she knew she would find things just as they had been for Wendy, including the little underground house being neat and clean and ready to live in.

"Are you hungry?" Jill asked the children.

The three looked to one another; they had been so excited that they had forgotten it was nearly time for dinner when they had taken to the skies. James nodded, followed by Wendy and then by Peter.

Wendy smiled, "Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes." She opened the little cupboard that she knew would contain dried beans, roots and other items that she'd be able to make a fine little stew from. She had all her Granny's recipes stored in her memory, all the things that Granny and Mr. Barrie had left out of the published stories. Things that only family knew.

Walking to the fireplace Jill whispered something and the embers grew until a lovely fire had filled the hearth. She poured water into a cauldron like metal pot that one of the lost boys had found, just as Wendy had over one hundred years before. She cut up the roots, stirred in spices and beans and soon the pot was bubbling with goodness. She ladled the stew into gourd bowls that were on the mantle of the fireplace, placed them on the table and invited her children to eat.

The room was warm and friendly and cozy. It was familiar enough to Jill that she felt as if she'd always been there. The meal was pleasant, filling and they lingered over it. Each child seemed to have something to say about the journey and yet little to say about having left the light house. Jill knew the magic of Never Land was making her children forget the life they had left behind. She breathed a sigh of relief.

When the clean up after dinner was finished Jill pulled down the bed. She knew where Wendy had hidden the bedding and the pillows. Soon the bed was ready for the three little ones, and she crawled into it with them. Closing her eyes she whispered, "Good night Never Land." The fire in the fire place flickered gently, keeping the room comfortable as the Rodgers' family slumbered.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Chapter 24. The vigil**_

__James had been silent for what seemed an eternity; had he been an ordinary man Smee might have worried. But James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Rodger and mastermind of the abduction of the young Miss Darling was not an ordinary man by any means. All the while they had been airborne from the desert until they reached the Midwestern airport James had been in deep contemplation. He didn't bother speaking his thoughts to Smee who would only whine. He kept his thoughts private.

The drive to the hospital had been uneventful, and when they entered the hour was very late; long past visitation. James saw doctors milling about in the hall outside the room that was assigned to Phillip Darling the third. He noticed the older woman seated at the man's bedside when he looked into the room and didn't intrude. He motioned to the doctor who seemed to be in charge that he wished a word with him. Once they were in a private conference room James spoke for the first time. "How long does he have?"

"Not long," the man said firmly.

"His wife knows," James asked, his answer came in the form of a nod. "Is he comfortable?"

"He seems to be," the physician sighed, "In fact he seems at utter peace." This fact seemed disturbing to the doctor.

"He knows," muttered James to himself. He looked piqued, "Is there any way you can talk his wife into taking a short break, I need to speak to him."

"I'll have a nurse take her down the hall to the solarium for tea," the man in the white coat said, "But Captain Rodgers; I'd appreciate it if you didn't tax him too much."

James bowed, "My word as a gentleman," he promised. He waited quietly if not patiently while the doctor and nurse gently removed the obstacle of Mrs. Darling from Mr. Darling's bedside. He stood watching, and not until the woman was in the solarium did he make his move. Quite as a paddle foot Indian he crept into the room.

"I've been expecting you," the man in the bed said in a threadbare tone.

"Have you," James answered before he could stop himself. He was once more taken aback. "Do you know who I am?"

Phillip looked at him, "James Hook," he said in a tone that was utterly calm.

James frowned, wondering how it was this man seemed to know. "I see," he grimaced.

"Do be seated," Phillip bid him politely, "It pains me to see you stand."

James removed his overcoat, took a seat beside the bed and looked into the eyes of the grandson of Old Wendy Darling. "I suppose you know why I am here."

"Of course," Phillip sighed, "I'm dying and you want some kind of closure." He took note of James' piqued expression. "I've been expecting you for some time now, Captain."

"Indeed?"

Phillip nodded, "Granny told me that I was a fool naming the girl after her," Phillip conversed as if with an old friend. "She had made sure none of the other girls were named in her honor… but from the moment Wendy was born I knew in my heart that she was destined to be different from the others. She's one of a kind, even as much as she resembled the original, she's not…" the blue eyes that reflected the calm sea saddened, "I shall not see my daughter again in this life. I have accepted that fact," he placed a hand over the mechanical one on his bed, "I am entrusting you to give her my last message."

"You don't think that a bit odd," James countered.

A wistful smile passed for a moment on Phillip's lips, "Perhaps, but you will see her again." He sighed, "You're destiny and hers are tied together."

James looked at the hand resting so peacefully on his, "Mr. Darling…"

"Please call me Phillip," the dying man said gently. "After all, we are practically family."

James shuddered, "I don't think any other Darling sees our relationship that way."

"None so blind."

James frowned, "Phillip…"

"James there is not much time, so please don't waste it by giving me false promises or foolish excuses for why you've done what you have." Phillip's voice strained, "Just do sit there and listen to me. From the moment Wendy was born I knew she was the one who was going to end up being your target. Granny knew it as well… Granny knew that you would never rest until you exacted a pound of flesh so to speak." He stirred in the bed, turning on his side, "We've known you were watching us. Each of us thinking the day would come when one or all of us would have to pay some price for the side we took. Granny said she could feel when you were near, an inner sense."

James' frown deepened.

"You took my daughter," Phillip whispered, "You took her innocents and despoiled her." When the pirate went to protest a hand went up to silence him. "Did you really think that John wouldn't come to me, tell me everything that took place… that you filled my daughter with your seed?" His hand fell back onto the bed. "The child born of my daughter and you is a bridge, whether you like it or not James Hook… the war is over…"

James felt his temper rise, "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Phillip insisted.

Rising to his feet James looked down his nose at the man in his deathbed. "That's not how I've planned it."

"Really," Phillip gave him an eerie smile. "Is any of this how you planned it?" The pirate King faltered, Phillip chuckled, "I thought not."

"How can you suggest an armistice," James asked boldly. "Your family hates me…"

"My family don't know you," Phillip countered, "But Wendy … Old Wendy did." His features softened, "She came to realize that my daughter would be more than equal to you."

"She's…a most difficult woman…" James muttered, "She thinks like…"

"A pirate," Phillip nodded.

"Indeed," James resumed his seat.

"More so than Granny," Phillip suggested.

"Indeed."

"Let the war end James," Phillip recommended softly, "Find a way to forgive the Darlings for their part in your…demise," he shrugged. "Find a way to forgive Pan."

"I can't," James sighed dejectedly as he clutched the mechanical hand.

"If you don't you are doomed to repeat the past over and over!"

"You don't understand," argued James feeling near violence, "She's taken my child away… she's taken it to him!"

"Has she," Phillip asked, "Do you really know so little of my girl? She never cared for Peter Pan."

James looked incredulously at the man, "I beg your pardon; she's a Darling… and all Darlings…"

"Not my girl," Phillip chuckled, "She's referred to him as a spoiled brat who needed a firm hand." The smile of wistfulness returned. "Oh she may have found a way to Never Land, but I sincerely doubt it's to Pan."

James crossed his arms, "You said you had a message for her, what is it?"

"Tell my girl that life is the adventure," Phillip whispered. "That I don't want her to fear the adventure. I want her to embrace it."

"Do you see me as part of her adventure," James asked a bit hastily.

"Of course," Phillip said, "What you did to her may have given her the strength to go forth."

"You've no idea what I've done to her," James warned darkly.

"I assure you I'm very well aware of all that you… did." Phillip retaliated icily. "Were circumstances different, were I not Phillip Darling the third, and my daughter another woman, I would move heaven and earth to avenge myself and her upon you. I would chase you 'round Perdition's flames before I give you up!" Staring into the forget-me-not eyes his own darkened as did his soul for an instant before they returned to their normal state, "That pleasure is not to be mine."

James brow rose, "There's darkness in you I've never seen in any other Darling." He smirked, "Intriguing really."

"We are not all sunshine and light," Phillip warned, "If that is what you've led yourself to believe than you are sadly mistaken my good fellow…" His features darkened, "Bad form James." James Hook stiffened and Phillip continued. "I am going to tell you something, something you may not have been aware of. This act of vengeance that you've embarked upon has backfired upon you James, as it was always destined to do."

James felt his jaw stiffen.

"Old Wendy once said that she felt that you had an attraction toward her," Phillip said, "She was certain had she been more receptive things would have gotten dark and ugly for both of you."

"Your point," inquired the other.

"What started out as an act of vengeance has placed you smack dab in the center of the Darling family," Phillip pointed out not mincing words. "You and my daughter are now parents, and you had best not underestimate her as you did her great granny." He settled back once more into the pillows, "None of your plans are going according to Hoyle James, so you'd better look at what has happened and adjust your course."

"Adjust my course?"

"Is there an echo in here," Phillip mocked, "James did you intend originally to father a child with a Darling or was that a spur of the moment change of plans?" The dying man watched as the pirate gazed away as if lost in space, "I thought so… Providence, fate, or whatever you want to call it has stepped in and taken over. I imagine your original plan was to despoil my poor child and then cut her adrift," he watched James' features harden and his face flush, "Yes, I thought so… not so easy when it came down to it, was it?"

"No."

Phillip chuckled, "I'm surprised that you thought it would be, Granny credited you with being a very well educated man."

"There's educated and then…" James frowned, "Were any other man to speak thus to me I'd run him through."

Phillip shrugged, "James, I'm the grandfather of your child; I'm allowed a bit more~ indulgence than others." He pointed a finger and shook it at the pirate. "She's gotten under your skin James Hook, and there's no escaping," Phillip smiled wistfully, "I would think long and hard before I run off following her, get a better plan in mind. For once you meet up with her…" he spread his hands, but the effort was too much for him. "My time grows short," he informed his visitor, "And if you don't mind I should like to spend my last moments on this earth with my wife." He smiled courteously, "Thank you for your visit."

Having been dismissed James stood up, and prepared to leave, "Phillip Darling, I wish we could have met under different circumstances."

"It is what it is," Phillip sighed, "Good bye James Hook."

"Rodgers," the pirate corrected gently, "My family name was Rodgers."

The dying man nodded, understanding he'd been given a boon few if any others had ever received. "Good bye then James Rodgers."

James quietly exited the room passing the Doctor who was standing near the solarium. The man in the white coat moved into the room then exited with the wife of the man Hook had just visited. Pacing the hall quietly he waited until the Doctor returned. "See that he's comfortable." James ordered.

"All that can be done will be," the man promised.

"I will want to see the widow when it's… over." James tapped his chin.

"Of course, sir."

Two hours later the tearful Mrs. Rose Darling sat once more in the solarium signing papers. She looked up to find the doctor ushering in a tall man she was not familiar with. "Mrs. Darling, this is Captain James Rodgers, he's come to pay his respects."

"Captain Rodgers," she questioned, "Do I know you?"

Placing his top coat over a chair he shook his head and extended his hands, "I knew Phillip briefly," he was surprised at how true his words felt. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Rose Darling said looking more lost and fragile than he'd imagined. "How did you know Phillip?"

"Business," the Captain said gently, the enormity of her being alone struck him, why was it there were no other Darlings here? "Forgive my impertinence, but where are the other family members?"

"Others," she looked confused, "There are no others… our daughter is~ away…"

"I meant the other Darlings," James took a seat beside the widow.

Her face twitched, "I wouldn't accept help from them if they were the last people on earth!" Putting a handkerchief to her face she wept openly, "Do you know anything about them?" Her voice shook with indignation, "The way they treated Phillip because he wouldn't conform to what the family decreed, and he lived on his own… they practically disinherited him, made it impossible for him to draw on his own trust! And then that visit…. When those spoiled brats deserted my daughter in Kensington Gardens…" her sobs were getting louder, "All of them with their nurses, looking down their noses at us. They who had everything treating us like dirt under their shoes, when it was their own fathers who had caused the state of affairs that Phillip was dealing with… NO… I'd not ask any of them to be here."

James reached for her hands, "May I then offer my services?"

Stark relief showed on her face, "That's most kind of you…" her voice relaxed a bit, "But I shouldn't trouble you, your family will be expecting you…its very late."

"My family would expect me to be of service," James assured her. "Let me help." She nodded quietly, and James took over the tasks of arranging the funeral of Phillip Darling the third.

James returned to the car hours later drained, he looked at Smee, "Did you make arrangements for our stay?"

Smee nodded soberly, "Aye Captian."

"I'm tired," James confessed.

"How long are we staying?"

James closed his eyes as the driver pulled out of the hospital VIP lot; "Until Mrs. Darling is settled." He muttered, "I have to meet with the funeral director tomorrow afternoon with Mrs. Darling, while I'm doing that I want you to see if you can find out what the status of the Darling's fortune is."

"All the Darlings?"

One blue eye opened, "Smee…"

"Sorry," the old sea dog chuckled, "I must be jet lagged or something."

James closed his eyes, "Wake me when we arrive at the…" the eyes opened, "Hotel?"

Smee shook his head, "Rented a house." The man met the other's stare, "It'll give you more privacy."

"Yes, I suppose it will," agreed Hook closing his eyes.

He had a troubling sleep; images of the missing Darling girl filled his dreams. She accused him of stealing her life, an accusation he couldn't deny. He awoke vexed with himself, had he not chosen her she would have been with her family during this time. "Smee, coffee! Strong hot and black," he shouted as he moved from the bed of the master suite in this rented house to the bath.

Smee brought the coffee and the paper; there was surprisingly no notice of the death of Phillip Darling. "There's nothing in the paper," he announced as he brought the tray in.

"I didn't expect there would be," James shouted from the stream of water that pelted him. "The widow wouldn't wish publicity."

"Not wish publicity," muttered the old man who acted as man servant to James Hook, "She's not a Darling by birth; I'll wager she's not popular with the rest of em."

"What did you find out," James asked as he rubbed himself dry with the towel.

"What she told you was the tip of the iceberg," Smee sneered, "That lot in England pulled every trick in the book once the old woman was out of the way. The cut off Phillip and his wife, and what they did to the girl… She put herself through school, on scholarships and grants, and part time jobs. Can you image Miss Lizzie without the family money?"

James took a seat on the bed, "She didn't have any family money?"

"Only what her parents had, Mr. Phillip was something of a celebrity among the architects here in the states, but he kept things close to his vest and when he got sick… all his investments went to keeping his wife secure." Smee explained. "Mr. John's father told Phillip if he'd move the family to England and live as they told him…"

"And Phillip told them to go to hell," James smiled, "I do believe I like him even more."

"Those trips to England the girl took each year," the old sea dog sighed, "That came out of a fund that Phillip set up so she wouldn't have to ask the family for anything." He shook his head, "They didn't even give her an even cut of that record she recorded with them."

"And they call me a pirate." Snapping his fingers he reached for the papers that Smee had printed out. "Are these numbers correct?"

"Right up to the last one," Smee said sadly, "The widow is next thing to a pauper."

James crumpled the pages, "Not as long as I have breath," he vowed.

"You going to take care of Phillip Darling's widow?"

"She is the grandmother of my child…."

"Children," Smee corrected in hushed tones.

James stared at him, "What?"

"I ordered the men to search the place… there were three little beds in the nursery." Smee answered.

"She took three children to Pan," glowered the pirate, "I swear I'll wring her neck!"

At that moment Smee decided to keep the rest of what his men had told him to himself until the captain had a chance to calm himself.

Pacing the pirate raged over this latest insult form his darling girl, "Of all the ungrateful, callous little witches…."

"Captain," Smee warned, "You're going to be late."

James took a deep cleansing breath, "Thank you Smee, it wouldn't do to leave poor Mrs. Darling alone with that funeral director." He moved toward the garments that his man had laid out for him. "Call Mrs. Darling and inform her we'll pick her up and take her to the funeral home, I don't want that poor woman to be alone."

Smee nodded.

Rose Darling was numb and nearly sheet white when she took a seat in the funeral directors office beside James. He worried that this was all too much for her, that she was on the verge of collapse herself. It wasn't until the man began to prattle on about the announcements in the paper that Rose suddenly became adamant.

"Under no circumstance," she said in a harsh tone, "No announcements."

The director turned to James thinking he could reason with the widow, James surprised him by agreeing with her, "No announcements."

"But sir… he's Phillip Darling… one of THE DARLINGS," the man simpered.

James' gazed narrowed, "What does that have to do with anything?"

As if he were speaking to a child the director sighed impatiently, "There is bound to be interest in this man's passing… many will wish to pay their respects…"

"Phillip wouldn't want lookie lous at his funeral," Rose spat out. "He was a very private man!" She turned to James, eyes begging him to help her.

James placed a hand over Rose's, "The family wishes for a very private service, under the circumstances…" He cleared his throat, "Mrs. Darling does not wish for announcements or a big flashy chapel. She wishes a small dignified service for her husband."

The man seated across from the pair looked scandalized, "You're joking…"

James felt his jaw stiffen, "We are totally serious."

The man stood up, "You can't ask me not to… This is Phillip Darling…"

James stood up, "Perhaps we should go elsewhere," he said in his most serious business tone. "There are other funeral homes in this town; one of them is surly going to listen to the requests of this lady." He reached his hand down to help Rose to her feet.

"No," The director motioned James to be seated, "Small and dignified," he promised, "And no announcements." He began to fill out the forms on his desk, "How many days of mourning?"

"One," Rose said determinedly.

James watched the director fume, "Mrs. Darling do you have pallbearers in mind?" She shook his head, "May I offer the services of some of my employees?"

"I don't wish to…be any trouble," Rose whispered. "You've done so much already."

"It's no trouble at all," James assured her.

The arrangements had been made, the widow delivered back to her home, and the Captain asked the driver to take him to the local park. Exiting the vehicle James took a leisurely stroll beside the local lagoon. There were more reasons than just no money for the bare bones funeral he was sure. Perhaps the widow feared the interference of the Darlings, and their presence would bring out the news men, who would question why Miss Darling wasn't in attendance. Standing beside the still waters James vowed to keep vigil. He would not leave Rose Darling to the hounds that seemed to be gathering over the bones… No, James vowed, he'd not leave the widow of Phillip to that.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Chapter truths**_

__James was having words with the funeral director once more when Rose arrived. Worried over her state of mind, James had sent a car for her. When he'd seen her home she had seemed so fragile and delicate, James began to realize that the woman for all her outward bravado was in poor health herself. He looked at the door as it was opened by the uniformed man he'd sent to escort her. Not one of the Darlings could have found fault with her, for she was statelier than a queen could have been.

"Good morning Mrs. Darling," he moved smoothly past the protesting director and extended his hands to her.

"Captain Rodgers," she whispered, "You really don't have to make such a fuss over me…"

"Nonsense," he said gently, "Phillip would expect me to see to your needs." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, "Are you ready for this?"

She looked down the hall to the little chapel where her husband's body lay in state. "Is one ever ready?" she mused softly.

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "However…"

Rose Darling nodded and took the first step, "Phillip would expect me to behave with decorum; and not to sit about moaning about how unfair life has been." Her fingers tightened on the arm they were tucked into, "I did try to be a proper Darling wife you know…"

"A proper Darling wife," James questioned as he walked at her side down the long hall. "Is there such a thing?"

"The English Darlings think so," Rose sighed, "And Rose Higgins didn't fit their bill." There was no disguising the bitterness or the pain that the slight had caused. "John's father was more or less the head of the family in England, that is after old Wendy of course… and he didn't approve of me."

"Old Wendy," James said sensitively, "Was still very much alive when you and Phillip wed."

"Yes, she was," Rose hesitated before they entered the chapel. "John's father tried to poison her against me," she whispered. "It was a dreadful mistake for him one that he never quite recovered from. You see Captain Rodgers, my husband was the son of Wendy's first born son… and she was much more accommodating to our… choices."

"Your choices?"

"We didn't employ a nanny," Rose confessed with a bit of embarrassment, "It's not that we couldn't afford one… when Phillip was still designing we were quite well set. It was a matter of Phillip and I wanted to be hands on parents." Her eyes were searching his, seeking to see if he understood, "John's father was Margret's son… he didn't approve… he said we were breaking with proper traditions."

"Did he," James murmured softly.

Rose nodded, "I doubt very much that Miss Wendy knew half of what John Sr. was up to." They moved into the chapel, "It was he who locked all of Phillip's inheritance up in trusts, making it impossible for him to touch it… John wanted Phillip to come begging…"

James looked at the serene face of the man in the coffin, "Which he never did."

"No," Rose said with pride, "He never did." She moved toward the coffin, placed her hand to the sleeve of her husband and boasted, "Even when they tried to make paupers of us… when they refused to release the funds that had been earmarked for Wendy's college… he wouldn't bend or break to their will. He stood on his own two feet, and demanded our daughter do the same."

"Phillip Darling was a unique man among his clan," James said reflectively.

"He was indeed," Rose mused, "The Darlings had this habit of marrying cousins with the same name… His mother was a Darling from the French branch… I'm the first non Darling you know. And John Sr. had a fit when Phillip turned down the arranged marriage with Cousin Phyllis Darling to marry a girl who was not even of English descent." She chuckled.

"English snobbery," James shrugged, "If if there were no need." He guided her to a large wing back chair, "Rose do you have family?"

"No," she said quietly, "Not really… I mean I've cousins, but they live a great distance from here now… I'm the only one who stayed local."

"No brothers or sister?" James asked taking a seat beside her. "You… you can't stay alone… you're not well…"

"I am well aware of my condition Captain Rodgers," her voice grew edgy.

"My dear," he soothed, "I mean no offence."

"None taken," she murmured, "I'm just being a bit…" she shook her head having no words to express her feelings. "Defensive… it's a very old, very bad habit."

James patted her hand, "Defensive is something I am very familiar with."

"I don't want to ask the Darlings for anything, not now, not ever."

"Rose," he soothed, "There must be someone in your own family…"

Shaking her head she sighed, "No James," she was firm. "Outside of my daughter… there is no one."

Guilt racked the pirate he was surprised to find. He had always needed revenge, and young Wendy had seemed the best candidate. Now listening to her mother lament her missing child he wished he'd never heard of Wendy Mora Angelia Darling, either one of them. "I'm very sorry," he said in condolence.

"I've missed my daughter for a long time," the woman confessed looking toward her husband's coffin. "More now than ever, but what is, is." She shrugged, "It may be prideful, nevertheless I refuse to call upon the Darlings, not now… not ever." Her lips twisted slightly, "I'd accept assistance and support from Captain Hook before I'd ask one of them for so much as a glass of water."

The irony was not lost on James who smiled back, "Rose Darling you're a wicked woman."

She sighed before she looked back to the coffin, "I'll take that as a complement."

James leaned back, "No other mourners," he observed.

"No."

"No flowers or flowery speeches?"

"Not a one," she murmured. "Only you to keep me company." She looked at him as she too leaned back into the large chair. "I fear I must lean on you."

Extending a hand her way he said quietly, "Phillip Darling was an extraordinary man, and his wife is his equal. I am honored to be of service." His hand closed gently over hers, "I vow to you Rose Darling, I will do all in my power to see to it that this funeral is just as you and he wished."

"You've already done that," Rose commended. "Could I request yet one more service of you?"

"Name it, if it's in my power…."

"There are some papers… legal documents that are beyond me," she whispered. "Things I don't fathom things that were effortless for Phillip even when he was incapacitated. Could I ask you to look them over for me?"

"When we leave here this evening I shall have my car deliver you to your home, I shall escort you and take a brief look… if they are pressing I shall address them this evening." He vowed.

"Thank you Captain Rodgers."

James read over page after page, "Rose, this is very serious." He looked at the widow who was preparing them a cup of tea. "Phillip bartered the house against his medical bills."

"I was afraid he'd done something like that," she murmured sadly.

"There's a small fortune in debt here," James lifted one set of paper, "Did you know he'd hired a detective?"

Rose took a seat at the cozy little kitchen table, "He may have said so," she sighed. "We were both so upset, and neither of us really trusted the people John Darling had hired… Phillip suspected that some of the English Darlings didn't really wish for Wendy to be found." She stirred her tea, "How bad is it?"

"Most of the property is gone, there's no way to offset it with the trust that the Darlings are sitting on. I'm afraid you're going to lose the house." James found no way to soften the blow. "Your furnishings, clothes and personal items… dishes, crystal.. art… are still yours but…."

"I most likely will have to sell them off," she fought the tears.

"No," James put his hand out to her, "No Rose, I won't let that happen… I've some very good lawyers, here and in England… I may not be able to save this house, but I'll be damned if they make Phillip's widow take refuge in a poor house."

"We don't have them here," she murmured.

"I've a cottage on my estate; I should like to offer it to you."

"No James, I couldn't…"

"Rose you're not well," he was firm, "You looked after Phillip without much help… now let me look after you." His hand held hers securely, "I shall have a housekeeper look after you…"

"James Rodgers you're far too busy a man…" she protested.

"Yes, I'm a busy man… but I'm going to take the time to take care of you. Something those blasted Darlings should have done." He vowed as he released her hand to sip his tea. "I'm a very rich man, and what it will cost to clean up this mess that Phillip got himself into will not even make a dent in my fortune. The first thing I'm going to do is get your money refunded from this bogus detective."

"Phillip had held out such high hopes until about two years ago," Rose wept, "Our little girl…" her hand cradled her face, "Oh my little girl, where are you?"

Unaccustomed to having to comfort a woman, James found his training in his early years as a gentleman of little use. Knowing his part in the woman's misery didn't make it any easier for him. James placed his cup of tea down, put one hand on Rose's shoulder, "I'll find her, if I have to move heaven and earth, I'll find her." Rose turned, seeking the strength and reassurance she had so often found in Phillip. Her sobs deepened while James sought to bolster her.

James was quiet on the way back to the rented house. Smee was waiting for him_,_ James knew that whatever he was about to be told was not going to make him happy. He held up a hand, and Smee remained silent. Walking past his manservant he entered the house, heading toward the parlor. Once he'd taken a seat he placed his hand over his eyes, "What is it?"

"It's not good," Smee said quietly.

"The expression on your fact told me that," James grumbled. "Out with it man."

"Mr. Phillip had no way of knowing, but his cousin John, the present John Darling's father… he bought up the mortgage and the other debts. It's the Darlings foreclosing on the widow." Smee presented his Captain with the hard copies of what he'd gathered.

"Does John Darling know this?" questioned James.

"I have very strong doubts that any of the young men do," Smee continued, "None of them went into the baking business like their father. A point of contention in the family."

Reading over the facts James began to grumble to himself, "And they think I'm vindictive."

"Mr. John Sr. did everything he could think of to ruin Mr. Phillip," Smee pointed out, "You never tried to ruin one of them financially…" He handed more papers to his employer, "He even made it impossible for Mr. Phillip to work in England unless it was with his expressed permission. That's why there are no buildings by Phillip Darling in London." The old sea dog shook his head, "It's a pity too; that man had talent."

"All this because old John didn't approve of his cousin's wife?"

"Oh no, that's just the tip of the iceberg, Captain," Smee was holding a paper with the Darling Family Tree, "You see miss Jane was put out with the second Mr. Phillip for moving to the colonies with his bride. She expected him to take over the investments that her brother had managed for the family. Them Darlings make more investment then you can imagine! It only came to a head when Mr. Phillip refused to marry his cousin in favor of Miss Rose Higgins. Mr. John Sr. went ballistic. And all this was done under Miss Wendy's nose without her ever knowing because Mr. Phillip wasn't a whiner."

"I have more respect for him by the moment," James admitted. "I can see why I was never able to really break my Darling girl. She comes from very strong stock."

"Mr. John tired to arrange a marriage contract," Smee said quietly, "Mr. Phillip wouldn't hear of it."

"When?" James looked up from the papers with a grim expression on his face, "When did John try to force this foolish idea?"

"The year that them brats left little Wendy alone in Kensington," Smee answered.

James stood up to pace, "Did the boy John know what his father was planning?"

"I have no way of knowing…." Smee sighed.

James' mind went back to that day, that lovely fall day that he'd first became acquainted with the child named in her great granny's honor. She was so much smaller than the other Darling children, and more timid surrounded by others who were all quite at home in the large park. He had watched them at play, had seen how they left the little girl out of many of their games. It had never occurred to him that the shunning was anything more than spoiled children acting out. Now he wondered, he wondered if John who was nearly eleven had realized that his father was trying to arrange his life and future. Try as he might he couldn't remember John's deeds as clearly as he should. Most of his memory of that day was of Wendy.

"She was so small," he whispered, "And so totally crestfallen that her cousins could have been so cruel… I thought it was just them playing a trick on the little outsider…." He shook his head, "I thought it was only that John was nearly eleven, and didn't like having to watch a five year old American child."

"Leaving her in the park was a nasty little trick," Smee agreed.

"She told me that Old Wendy was so upset by the little prank that she refused to speak to John for the rest of the girl's visit." James paced. "Old Wendy would never have approved a match between them, not with that incident so fresh in her mind."

"She didn't." Smee looked at the man pacing with wide eyes, "How did you know?"

"Instinct," James paced. "The old girl must have pitched a fit to John Sr."

"That Miss Bridges, the nurse was a source of information," Smee said quietly. "Miss Wendy did pitch a fit; she told John that he was as guilty of the mischief directed at the little girl as his son was."

James tapped his chin as he paced, "I taunted her, made her remember that incident. She had buried her wounded pride and I picked at the old scab until she bled." His tone was retrospective, "That poor child," he murmured, "I credited her with being intelligent, yet not once had I thought of how that incident must have colored her feelings toward the English branch of the family…" he slowed the pace, "The time she appeared as her Granny at the memorial… John was so cruel to her…so cold."

"John Junior?"

"No, Senior;" James tapping increased, "He was downright nasty to the little girl, and there was no Wendy to scold him."

"She'd have done more than scold had she known what he did," Smee suggested; "Being in the banking and investment business that man was more pirate than you!"

James winced, "Hard to fathom."

"It was right after Mr. Phillip took his wife and child back to the states that Mr. John senior started his campaign to put him on the outs."

How it must have galled him when young John turned around and began to be kind to the girl, James mused. Or had it been a calculation on the part of the elder John, an effort to keep the Darling money within his control? The girl had gotten very little credit when she recorded with the band… and he knew she'd gotten no monetary gain. Had that been the last stroke of John Darling Sr.? James wondered.

"Something I missed," Smee inquired.

"No, something I missed," James informed his servant, "I should have watched them more carefully," he grumbled, "I had no idea that some of them were so…jealous."

"Mr. Phillip showed them all up," Smee declared, "He made it without depending on the Darling fortune."

"And his daughter was an unspoiled genuinely sweet…" James closed his eyes, "I'm wondering if she'd have been different had John not locked the trusts up."

"Mr. Phillip didn't depend on the trusts," Smee answered with a shrug. "I think the girl would have been just as she was… she wasn't raised with the rest of em." He went on thoughtfully, "She wasn't raised in a nursery, or followed about by governesses, and she didn't go to private schools like the rest. Mr. Phillip and his wife believed in being more… real."

"The Darling name was a foot in the door, but his talent is what kept him at the top of his game, even if he didn't flaunt it." James grew weary, "Smee, call the estate, tell them to get the little cottage ready. Hire a good housekeeper, one with some nursing skills. We'll be having a guest."

"The widow," Smee asked.

"Yes," James sighed.

"That's going to mean you're not able to…"

"I know," James mused, "But how far can one go in Never Land… it's not that big." He shook his head, "I cannot just up and leave Rose, she's not well… and she won't turn to the Darlings for so much as a farthing."

"Right proud she is," Smee agreed.

"She said she'd accept help from Captain Hook before she'd turn to the Darling Clan," James looked sheepishly at his servant. "It will take a few days to put her affairs in order, but she's already lost the house thanks to the Darlings. I want you to hire a moving service, have her house packed up and moved to the estate. Rose deserves to live in comfort now, and I can afford to take care of her."

"You want us to transport her belongings by Rodgers Freight LTD?"

"Yes," James answered wearily. "I want her things in the cottage before she arrives, I'll be bringing her on my private jet."

"Very good," Smee was making notes.

"I'm off to bed; it's going to be a long day tomorrow, do have the movers come to her house the day after the funeral." He instructed, "I'll inform her in the morning of our plans."

"And you think she'll go along?"

James nodded slowly, "She has little choice," he sighed. "Nor does she have much strength to fight… she's not well Smee… soon as I get her settled into the estate I intend to fetch her wondering daughter home to her."

Rose stared at James, "I thought you were just being… kind."

"No," James said firmly, "I'm paying a debt as it were."

"What debt did you owe Phillip," she questioned lightly.

"One that was between he and I," James answered guardedly.

Rose touched the coffin that was about to be closed, "How soon would I be evicted," she asked.

"Within a few weeks," James assured her.

"There's no chance to hold them off?"

"No," he said knowing she was unaware as to who held the deed.

"I could sell …"

"Even if you sold all your jewelry, your paintings, your china and furnishings… it wouldn't be enough." James placed a protective arm over her shoulder, "And if I'm any judge of character, that smarmy little snake of a director is going to alert the press as to the burial today." His tone was firm, "In a few hours the Darling Clan would descend upon you, overwhelm you, and force you to their will…"

"Oh, I so don't want that…"

"Let me protect you Rose, let me do what I promised Phillip…" he requested gently. "Let me get you away from all this before the media turns this into a circus."

"But to abandon Phillip…." She countered.

"Phillip is gone," he reasoned, "What would he do if he were here?"

Rose closed her eyes, "He'd take up your suggestion," she agreed. "Alright Captain Rodgers, we'll go with your plan…." She motioned to the funeral director who was wearing a seedy little grin. "Here comes trouble."

"If you'd direct your men to take their places we can begin our journey to the cemetery." He said with a flourish.

James nodded to his uniformed men, "Take your places." He then handed a black veil, a thickly opaque one, to the widow.

Rose covered her hat with the circle of fabric, "Thank you Captain Rodgers," she murmured.

"You may thank me when we are safely on our way," he whispered back taking her arm to escort her.

The walked behind the coffin as it was carried by the six guards out to the hearse. The director was upset that the widow refused to sit in the limo that he was providing. The six uniformed guards moved into that vehicle as they had been instructed. Rose was seated in the limo behind it with James. As the cars pulled away from the curb outside the funeral home the driver kept a small distance between him and the limo in front of them.

"Now boss?" he asked.

"No, wait until we are on the highway, then separate…" James said softly. "Take the exit ramp to the 294 and head for the air field." Moments later he felt the widow's head move to his shoulder, he listened as she wept silently to herself. James wished there had been some other way, wished that he could have at least brought her to the graveside for a final farewell. He wished there had been a better way to handle this, but he feared for Rose's safety as well as her health. This was better he told himself as he allowed her to weep.

There was a section of the air felid devoted to private jets, it was here that the limo headed. Once they arrived at the tarmac Smee escorted the lady to the jet while James gave his final orders to the ground crew. He then joined the widow, and took his seat.

"Don't I need a passport," Rose fretted.

"I took the liberty of having one of my employees gather your important papers," he pointed to a valise beside the widow. "Your passport is in there along with your other legal papers."

Softly she smiled at him, "How thoughtful," she murmured.

"You just rest easy one Rose," he encouraged. "By this time tomorrow you'll be having tea in a hotel suite in London."

Her smile faded, "There's no way the family can trace me is there?"

"None," he assured her, his hand went to hers, "You're safe from the media, and you're safe from the Darlings and their lawyers."

"Captain Rodgers, I'll never be able to repay you…"

"Nonsense," he sighed, "I'm paying back a debt I owe Phillip." He looked over at Smee, "Will here; will see to all your needs during the journey."

Smee bowed graciously, "A pleasure."


End file.
